50 Shades of Kurosaki
by Gwendlynn Rose
Summary: When Orihime Inoue goes to interview young entrepreneur Ichigo Kurosaki, she encounters a man who is beautiful and intimidating. The innocent Orihime is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Orihime's quite beauty, wit, and spirit, Ichigo admits he wants her too-but on his own terms
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **50 Shades of Kurosaki

**WARNINGS: _This story is for mature individuals NOT FOR ANYONE UNDERAGE. I do not write to corrupt young curious children. If you are underage leave this story__ NOW! _**Now that's out of the way. This story is OOC and AU (sorry). This is also a kinky love story.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing! Tite Kubo owns the rights for bleach and E. L. James owns 50 Shades Trilogy.

**A/N: **_Hello everyone this is my first FanFiction. I hope everyone likes this story. I have to give a shot out to SourApples for talking me into to writing this. Without her I would have never done it. I also like to think Captain Levi for the support I received. This story is for you guys. This will be one HOT story when it is finished. Anyway I will just shut up and let you guys tell me what you think._

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I scowl with frustration at myself in the mirror. Damn my hair – it just won't behave, and damn Rukia Kuchiki for being ill and subjecting me to this ordeal. I should be studying for my final exams, which are next week, yet here I am trying to brush my hair into submission. _I must not sleep with it wet. I must not sleep with it wet. _Reciting this mantra several times, I attempt, once more, to bring it under control with the brush.

I roll my eyes in exasperation and gaze at the auburn-haired girl with grey eyes too big for her face staring back at me, and give up. My only option is to restrain my wayward hair in a ponytail and hope that I look semi presentable. Rukia is my roommate, and she has chosen today of all days to succumb to the flu.

Therefore, she cannot attend the interview she'd arranged to do, with some mega-industrialist tycoon I've never heard of, for the student newspaper. So I have been volunteered. I have final exams to cram for, one essay to finish, and I'm supposed to be working this afternoon, but no – today I have to drive a hundred and sixty-five miles to downtown Tokyo in order to meet the enigmatic CEO of Kurosaki Enterprises Holdings Inc.

As an exceptional entrepreneur and major benefactor of our University, his time is extraordinarily precious – much more precious than mine – but he has granted Rukia an interview. A real coup, she tells me. Damn her extra-curricular activities. Rukia is huddled on the couch in the living room.

"Orihime, I'm sorry. It took me nine months to get this interview. It will take another six to reschedule, and we'll both have graduated by then. As the editor, I can't blow this off. Please," Rukia begs me in her rasping, sore throat voice. How does she do it? Even ill she looks gamine and gorgeous, although now red-rimmed and runny. I ignore my pang of unwelcome sympathy.

"Of course I'll go Rukia. You should get back to bed. Gathering my satchel, I smile wryly at her, then head out the door to the car. I can not believe I have let Rukia talk me into this. But then Rukia can talk anyone into anything. She'll make an exceptional journalist. She's articulate, strong, persuasive, argumentative, and beautiful – and she's my dearest, dearest friend. The roads are clear as I set off from Karakura Town toward Tokyo.

It's early, and I don't have to be in Tokyo until two this afternoon. Fortunately, Rukia's lent me her sporty Mercedes CLK. I'm not sure Wanda, my old VW Beetle, would make the journey in time.

My destination is the headquarters of Mr. Kurosaki's global enterprise. It's a huge twenty-story office building, all curved glass and steel, an architect's utilitarian fantasy, with Kurosaki House written discreetly in steel over the glass front doors. It's a quarter to two when I arrive, greatly relieved that I'm not late as I walk into the enormous – and frankly intimidating – glass, steel, and white sandstone lobby.

Behind the solid sandstone desk, a very attractive, groomed, blonde young woman smiles pleasantly at me. She's wearing the sharpest charcoal suit jacket and white shirt I have ever seen. She looks immaculate.

"I'm here to see Mr. Kurosaki. Orihime Inoue for Rukia Kuchiki."

"Excuse me one moment, Miss Inoue."

She arches her eyebrow slightly as I stand self-consciously before her. I am beginning to wish I'd borrowed one of Rukia's formal blazers rather than wear my navy blue jacket. She hands me a security pass that has VISITOR very firmly stamped on the front. I can't help my smirk. Surely it's obvious that I'm just visiting. I don't fit in here at all. _Nothing changes, _I inwardly sigh. Thanking her, I walk over to the bank of elevators past the two security men who are both far more smartly dressed than I am in their well-cut black suits.

The elevator whisks me with terminal velocity to the twentieth floor. The doors slide open, and I'm in another large lobby – again all glass, steel, and white sandstone. I'm confronted by another desk of sandstone and another young blonde woman dressed impec cably in black and white that rises to greet me.

"Miss Inoue, could you wait here, please?" She points to a seated area of white leather chairs.

Behind the leather chairs is a spacious glass-walled meeting room with an equally spacious dark wood table and at least twenty matching chairs around it. Beyond that, there is a floor-to-ceiling window with a view of the Tokyo skyline that looks out through the city toward the Sound. It's a stunning vista, and I'm momentarily paralyzed by the view. _Wow. _I sit down, fish the questions from my satchel, and go through them, inwardly cursing Rukia for not providing me with a brief biography. I know nothing about this man I'm about to interview. He could be ninety or he could be thirty. I roll my eyes at myself. _Get a grip, Inoue. _Judging from the building, which is too clinical and modern, I guess Kurosaki is in his forties: fit, tanned, and fair-haired to match the rest of the personnel.

Another elegant, flawlessly dressed blonde comes out of a large door to the right. What is it with all the immaculate blondes? It's like Stepford here. Taking a deep breath, I stand up.

"Miss Inoue?" the latest blonde asks.

"Yes," I croak, and clear my throat. "Yes." There, that sounded more confident.

"Mr. Kurosaki will see you in a moment. May I take your jacket?"

"Oh please." I struggle out of the jacket.

"Have you been offered any refreshment?"

"Um – no." Oh dear, is Blonde Number One in trouble?

Blonde Number Two frowns and eyes the young woman at the desk. "Would you like tea, coffee, water?" she asks, turning her attention back to me.

"A glass of water. Thank you," I murmur.

"Isane, please fetch Miss Inoue a glass of water." Her voice is stern. Isane scoots up immediately and scurries to a door on the other side of the foyer.

"My apologies, Miss Inoue, Isane is our new intern. Please be seated. Mr. Kurosaki will be another five minutes."

Isane returns with a glass of iced water.

"Here you go, Miss Inoue."

"Thank you."

Blonde Number Two marches over to the large desk, her heels clicking and echoing on the sandstone floor. She sits down, and they both continue their work. Perhaps Mr. Kurosaki insists on all his employees being blonde. I'm wondering idly if that's legal, when the office door opens and a tall, elegantly dressed, attractive man exits. I have definitely worn the wrong clothes.

He turns and says through the door. "Golf, this week, Kurosaki."

I don't hear the reply. He turns, sees me, and smiles, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. Isane has jumped up and called the elevator. She seems to excel at jumping from her seat. She's more nervous than me!

"Good afternoon ladies," he says as he departs through the sliding door.

"Mr. Kurosaki will see you now, Miss Inoue. Do go through," Blonde Number Two says. I stand rather shakily trying to suppress my nerves. Gathering up my satchel, I abandon my glass of water and make my way to the partially open door.

"You don't need to knock – just go in." She smiles kindly. I push open the door and stumble through, tripping over my own feet, and falling head first into the office.

Double crap – me and my two left feet! I am on my hands and knees in the doorway to Mr. Kurosaki's office, and gentle hands are around me helping me to stand. I am so embarrassed, damn my clumsiness. I have to steel myself to glance up. Holy cow – he's so young.

"Miss Rukia Kuchiki." He extends a long-fingered hand to me once I'm upright. "I'm Ichigo Kurosaki. Are you all right? Would you like to sit?"

So young – and attractive, very attractive. He's tall, dressed in a fine gray suit, white shirt, and black tie with unruly bright orange colored hair and intense, bright chocolate eyes that regard me shrewdly. It takes a moment for me to find my voice.

"Um. Actually–" I mutter. If this guy is over thirty then I'm a monkey's uncle. In a daze, I place my hand in his and we shake. As our fingers touch, I feel an odd exhilarating shiver run through me. I withdraw my hand hastily, embarrassed. Must be static. I blink rapidly, my eyelids matching my heart rate. "Miss Rukia Kuchiki is indisposed, so she sent me. I hope you don't mind, Mr. Kurosaki."

"And you are?" His voice is warm, possibly amused, but it's difficult to tell from his impassive expression. He looks mildly interested, but above all, polite.

"Orihime Inoue. I'm studying English Literature with Rukia, um… Miss Rukia Kuchiki at Karakura U."

"I see," he says simply. I think I see the ghost of a smile in his expression, but I'm not sure.

"Would you like to sit?" He waves me toward a white leather buttoned L-shaped couch.

His office is way too big for just one man. In front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, there's a huge modern dark-wood desk that six people could comfortably eat around. It matches the coffee table by the couch. Everything else is white – ceiling, floors, and walls except, on the wall by the door, where a mosaic of small paintings hang, thirty-six of them arranged in a square. They are exquisite – a series of mundane, forgotten objects painted in such precise detail they look like photographs. Displayed together, they are breathtaking.

"A local artist. Tsumugiya," says Kurosaki when he catches my gaze.

"They're lovely. Raising the ordinary to extraordinary," I murmur, distracted both by him and the paintings. He cocks his head to one side and regards me intently. "I couldn't agree more, Miss Inoue," he replies, his voice soft and for some inexpli cable reason I find myself blushing. Apart from the paintings, the rest of the office is cold, clean, and clinical. I wonder if it reflects the personality of the Adonis who sinks gracefully into one of the white leather chairs opposite me.

I shake my head, disturbed at the direction of my thoughts, and retrieve Rukia's questions from my satchel. Next, I set up the mini-disc recorder and am all fingers and thumbs, dropping it twice on the coffee table in front of me. Mr. Kurosaki says nothing, waiting patiently – I hope – as I become increasingly embarrassed and flustered. When I pluck up the courage to look at him, he's watching me, one hand relaxed in his lap and the other cupping his chin and trailing his long index finger across his lips. I think he's trying to suppress a smile.

"Sorry," I stutter. "I'm not used to this."

"Take all the time you need, Miss Inoue," he says.

"Do you mind if I record your answers?"

"After you've taken so much trouble to set up the recorder – you ask me now?"

I flush. He's teasing me? I hope. I blink at him, unsure what to say, and I think he takes pity on me because he relents. "No, I don't mind."

"Did Rukia, I mean, Miss Rukia Kuchiki, explain what the interview was for?"

"Yes. To appear in the graduation issue of the student newspaper as I shall be confer ring the degrees at this year's graduation ceremony."

_Oh! _This is news to me, and I'm temporarily pre-occupied by the thought that some one not much older than me – okay, maybe six years or so, and okay, mega successful, but still – is going to present me with my degree. I frown, dragging my wayward attention back to the task at hand.

"Good," I swallow nervously. "I have some questions, Mr. Kurosaki." I smooth a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

"I thought you might," he says, deadpan. He's laughing at me. My cheeks heat at the realization, and I sit up and square my shoulders in an attempt to look taller and more intimidating. Pressing the start button on the recorder, I try to look professional.

"You're very young to have amassed such an empire. To what do you owe your success?" I glance up at him. His smile is rueful, but he looks vaguely disappointed.

"Business is all about people, Miss Inoue, and I'm very good at judging people. I know how they tick, what makes them flourish, what doesn't, what inspires them, and how to incentivize them. I employ an exceptional team, and I reward them well." He pauses and fixes me with his chocolate stare. "My belief is to achieve success in any scheme one has to make oneself master of that scheme, know it inside and out, know every detail. I work hard, very hard to do that. I make decisions based on logic and facts. I have a natural gut instinct that can spot and nurture a good solid idea and good people. The bottom line is, it's always down to good people."

"Maybe you're just lucky." This isn't on Rukia's list – but he's so arrogant. His eyes flare momentarily in surprise.

"I don't subscribe to luck or chance, Miss Inoue. The harder I work the more luck I seem to have. It really is all about having the right people on your team and directing their energies accordingly. I think it was Harvey Firestone who said 'the growth and development of people is the highest calling of leadership.'"

"You sound like a control freak." The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

"Oh, I exercise control in all things, Miss Inoue," he says without a trace of humor in his smile. I look at him, and he holds my gaze steadily, impassive. My heartbeat quickens, and my face flushes again.

Why does he have such an unnerving effect on me? His overwhelming good-looks maybe? The way his eyes blaze at me? The way he strokes his index finger against his lower lip? I wish he'd stop doing that.

"Besides, immense power is acquired by assuring yourself in your secret reveries that you were born to control things," he continues, his voice soft.

"Do you feel that you have immense power?" _Control Freak._

"I employ over forty thousand people, Miss Inoue. That gives me a certain sense of responsibility – power, if you will. If I were to decide I was no longer interested in the telecommunications business and sell up, twenty thousand people would struggle to make their mortgage payments after a month or so."

My mouth drops open. I am staggered by his lack of humility.

"Don't you have a board to answer to?" I ask, disgusted.

"I own my company. I don't have to answer to a board." He raises an eyebrow at me. I flush. Of course, I would know this if I had done some research. But holy crap, he's so arrogant. I change tack.

"And do you have any interests outside your work?"

"I have varied interests, Miss Inoue." A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "Very var ied." And for some reason, I'm confounded and heated by his steady gaze. His eyes are alight with some wicked thought.

"But if you work so hard, what do you do to chill out?"

"Chill out?" He smiles, revealing perfect white teeth. I stop breathing. He really is beautiful. No one should be this good-looking.

"Well, to 'chill out' as you put it – I sail, I fly, I indulge in various physical pursuits." He shifts in his chair. "I'm a very wealthy man, Miss Inoue, and I have expensive and absorbing hobbies."

I glance quickly at Rukia's questions, wanting to get off this subject.

"You invest in manufacturing. Why, specifically?" I ask. Why does he make me so uncomfortable?

"I like to build things. I like to know how things work: what makes things tick, how to construct and deconstruct. And I have a love of ships. What can I say?"

"That sounds like your heart talking rather than logic and facts."

His mouth quirks up, and he stares appraisingly at me.

"Possibly. Though there are people who'd say I don't have a heart."

"Why would they say that?"

"Because they know me well." His lip curls in a wry smile.

"Would your friends say you're easy to get to know?" And I regret the question as soon as I say it. It's not on Rukia's list. "I'm a very private person, Miss Inoue. I go a long way to protect my privacy. I don't often give interviews," he trails off.

"Why did you agree to do this one?"

"Because I'm a benefactor of the University, and for all intents and purposes, I couldn't get Miss Rukia Kuchiki off my back. She badgered and badgered my PR people, and I admire that kind of tenacity."

I know how tenacious Rukia can be. That's why I'm sitting here squirming uncomfortably under his penetrating gaze, when I should be studying for my exams.

"You also invest in farming technologies. Why are you interested in this area?"

"We can't eat money, Miss Inoue, and there are too many people on this planet who don't have enough to eat."

"That sounds very philanthropic. Is it something you feel passionately about? Feeding the world's poor?"

He shrugs, very non-committal.

"It's shrewd business," he murmurs, though I think he's being disingenuous. It doesn't make sense – feeding the world's poor? I can't see the financial benefits of this, only the virtue of the ideal. I glance at the next question, confused by his attitude.

"Do you have a philosophy? If so, what is it?"

"I don't have a philosophy as such. Maybe a guiding principle – Carnegie's: 'A man who acquires the ability to take full possession of his own mind may take possession of anything else to which he is justly entitled.' I'm very singular, driven. I like control – of myself and those around me."

"So you want to possess things?" _You are a control freak._

"I want to deserve to possess them, but yes, bottom line, I do."

"You sound like the ultimate consumer."

"I am." He smiles, but the smile doesn't touch his eyes. Again this is at odds with someone who wants to feed the world, so I can't help thinking that we're talking about something else, but I'm absolutely mystified as to what it is. I swallow hard. The temperature in the room is rising or maybe it's just me. I just want this interview to be over. Surely Rukia has enough material now? I glance at the next question.

"You were adopted. How far do you think that's shaped the way you are?" Oh, this is personal. I stare at him, hoping he's not offended. His brow furrows.

"I have no way of knowing."

My interest is piqued.

"How old were you when you were adopted?"

"That's a matter of public record, Miss Inoue." His tone is stern. I flush, again. _Crap. _Yes of course – if I'd known I was doing this interview, I would have done some research. I move on quickly.

"You've had to sacrifice a family life for your work."

"That's not a question." He's terse.

"Sorry." I squirm, and he's made me feel like an errant child. I try again. "Have you had to sacrifice a family life for your work?"

"I have a family. I have a brother and a sister and two loving parents. I'm not interested in extending my family beyond that." "Are you gay, Mr. Kurosaki?"

He inhales sharply, and I cringe, mortified. _Crap. _Why didn't I employ some kind of filter before I read this straight out? How can I tell him I'm just reading the questions? Damn Rukia and her curiosity!

"No Orihime, I'm not." He raises his eyebrows, a cool gleam in his eyes. He does not look pleased.

"I apologize. It's um… written here." It's the first time he's said my name. My heart beat has accelerated, and my cheeks are heating up again. Nervously, I tuck my loosened hair behind my ear.

He cocks his head to one side.

"These aren't your own questions?"

The blood drains from my head. _Oh no._

"Err… no. Rukia – Miss Rukia Kuchiki – she compiled the questions."

"Are you colleagues on the student paper?" _Oh crap. _I have nothing to do with the student paper. It's her extra-curricular activity, not mine. My face is aflame.

"No. She's my roommate." He rubs his chin in quiet deliberation, his chocolate eyes appraising me.

"Did you volunteer to do this interview?" he asks, his voice deadly quiet.

Hang on, who's supposed to be interviewing whom? His eyes burn into me, and I'm compelled to answer with the truth.

"I was drafted. She's not well." My voice is weak and apologetic.

"That explains a great deal."

There's a knock at the door, and Blonde Number Two enters.

"Mr. Kurosaki, forgive me for interrupting, but your next meeting is in two minutes."

"We're not finished here, Mashiro. Please cancel my next meeting."

Mashiro hesitates, gaping at him. She's appears lost. He turns his head slowly to face her and raises his eyebrows. She flushes bright pink. _Oh good. It's not just me._

"Very well, Mr. Kurosaki," she mutters, then exits. He frowns, and turns his attention back to me.

"Where were we, Miss Inoue?"

_Oh, we're back to 'Miss Inoue' now._

"Please don't let me keep you from anything." "I want to know about you. I think that's only fair." His chocolate eyes are alight with curiosity. Double crap. Where's he going with this? He places his elbows on the arms of the chair and steeples his fingers in front of his mouth. His mouth is very… distracting. I swallow.

"There's not much to know," I say, flushing again.

"What are your plans after you graduate?"

I shrug, thrown by his interest. _Come to Tokyo with Rukia, find a place, find a job. _I haven't really thought beyond my finals.

"I haven't made any plans, Mr. Kurosaki. I just need to get through my final exams." Which I should be studying for now rather than sitting in your palatial, swanky, sterile office, feeling uncomfortable under your penetrating gaze. "We run an excellent internship program here," he says quietly. I raise my eyebrows in surprise. Is he offering me a job?

"Oh. I'll bear that in mind," I murmur, completely confounded. "Though I'm not sure I'd fit in here." Oh no. I'm musing out loud again.

"Why do you say that?" He cocks his head to one side, intrigued, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" _I'm uncoordinated, scruffy, and I'm not blonde._

"Not to me," he murmurs. His gaze is intense, all humor gone, and strange muscles deep in my belly clench suddenly. I tear my eyes away from his scrutiny and stare blindly down at my knotted fingers. _What's going on? _I have to go – now. I lean forward to re trieve the recorder.

"Would you like me to show you around?" he asks.

"I'm sure you're far too busy, Mr. Kurosaki, and I do have a long drive."

"You're driving back to Karakura Town?" He sounds surprised, anxious even. He glances out of the window. It's begun to rain. "Well, you'd better drive carefully." His tone is stern, authoritative. Why should he care? "Did you get everything you need?" he adds. "Yes sir," I reply, packing the recorder into my satchel. His eyes narrow, speculatively.

"Thank you for the interview, Mr. Kurosaki."

"The pleasure's been all mine," he says, polite as ever.

As I rise, he stands and holds out his hand.

"Until we meet again, Miss Inoue." And it sounds like a challenge, or a threat, I'm not sure which. I frown. When will we ever meet again? I shake his hand once more, astounded that that odd current between us is still there. It must be my nerves.

"Mr. Kurosaki." I nod at him. Moving with lithe athletic grace to the door, he opens it wide.

"Just ensuring you make it through the door, Miss Inoue." He gives me a small smile. Obviously, he's referring to my earlier less-than-elegant entry into his office. I flush.

"That's very considerate, Mr. Kurosaki," I snap, and his smile widens. _I'm glad you find me entertaining, _I glower inwardly, walking into the foyer. I'm surprised when he follows me out. Mashiro and Isane both look up, equally surprised.

"Did you have a coat?" Kurosaki asks.

"Yes." Isane leaps up and retrieves my jacket, which Kurosaki takes from her before she can hand it to me. He holds it up and, feeling ridiculously self-conscious, I shrug it on. Kurosaki places his hands for a moment on my shoulders. I gasp at the contact. If he notices my reaction, he gives nothing away. His long index finger presses the button summoning the elevator, and we stand waiting – awkwardly on my part, coolly self-possessed on his. The doors open, and I hurry in desperate to escape. _I really need to get out of here. _When I turn to look at him, he's leaning against the doorway beside the elevator with one hand on the wall. He really is very, very good-looking. It's distracting. His burning chocolate eyes gaze at me.

"Orihime," he says as a farewell.

"Ichigo," I reply. And mercifully, the doors close.

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_**Okay let me know what you think. Chapter 2 will hopefully be coming soon. It is in progress now. Gwen-chan out!  
**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: 50 Shades of Kurosaki

**WARNINGS**: This story is for mature individuals _**NOT FOR ANYONE UNDERAGE**_. I do not write to corrupt young curious children. If you are underage leave this story NOW! Now that's out of the way. This story is OOC and AU (sorry). This is also a kinky love story.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing! Tite Kubo owns the rights for bleach and E. L. James owns 50 Shades Trilogy.

**A/N:** _Hello everyone_ _and thank you for the wonderful reviews. I was so happy to see that so many readers liked this story. I hope you all keep reading. I still like to personally thank SourxApples and Captain Levi, you guys are the best. Also Apples loaded a new chapter for "The Goti 13 and The Vampire Lord" if you're not reading these too, then you should. Captain Levi has a story called "The Demon Within" it's a must read. Okay I will shut up now! Enjoy! _

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My heart is pounding. The elevator arrives on the first floor, and I scramble out as soon as the doors slide open, stumbling once, but fortunately not sprawling on to the immaculate sandstone floor. I race for the wide glass doors, and I'm free in the bracing, cleansing, and damp air of Tokyo. Raising my face, I welcome the cool refreshing rain. I close my eyes and take a deep, purifying breath, trying to recover what's left of my equilibrium.

No man has ever affected me the way Ichigo Kurosaki has, and I cannot fathom why. Is it his looks? His civility? Wealth? Power? I don't understand my irrational reaction. I breathe an enormous sigh of relief. What in heaven's name was that all about? Leaning against one of the steel pillars of the building, I valiantly attempt to calm down and gather my thoughts. I shake my head. Holy crap – what was that? My heart steadies to its regular rhythm, and I can breathe normally again. I head for the car.

As I leave the city limits behind, I begin to feel foolish and embarrassed as I replay the interview in my mind. Surely, I'm over-reacting to something that's imaginary. Okay, so he's very attractive, confident, commanding, at ease with himself – but on the flip side, he's arrogant, and for all his impeccable manners, he's autocratic and cold. Well, on the surface. An involuntary shiver runs down my spine. He may be arrogant, but then he has a right to be – he's accomplished so much at such a young age. He doesn't suffer fools gladly, but why should he? Again, I'm irritated that Rukia didn't give me a brief biography.

While cruising along the interstate, my mind continues to wander. I'm truly perplexed as to what makes someone so driven to succeed. Some of his answers were so cryptic – as if he had a hidden agenda. And Rukia's questions – ugh! The adoption and asking him if he was gay! I shudder. I can't believe I said that. Ground, swallow me up now! Every time I think of that question in the future, I will cringe with embarrassment. Damn Rukia Kuchiki!

I check the speedometer. I'm driving more cautiously than I would on any other occasion. And I know it's the memory of two penetrating chocolate eyes gazing at me, and a stern voice telling me to drive carefully. Shaking my head, I realize that Kurosaki's more like a man double his age.

Forget it, Orihime, I scold myself. I decide that all in all, it's been a very interesting experience, but I shouldn't dwell on it. Put it behind you. I never have to see him again. I'm immediately cheered by the thought

We live in a small community of duplex apartments in Karakura Town, close to Karakura U. I'm lucky – Rukia's parents bought the place for her, and I pay peanuts for rent. It's been home for four years now. As I pull up outside, I know Rukia is going to want a blow-by-blow account, and she is tenacious. Hopefully I won't have to elaborate much beyond what was said during the interview.

"Orihime! You're back." Rukia sits in our living area, surrounded by books. She's clearly been studying for finals – though she's still in her pink flannel pajamas decorated with cute little Chappy rabbits, the ones she reserves for the aftermath of breaking up with boyfriends, for assorted illnesses, and for general moody depression. She bounds up to me and hugs me hard.

"I was beginning to worry. I expected you back sooner."

"Oh, I thought I made good time considering the interview ran over." I wave the mini-disc recorder at her.

"Orihime, thank you so much for doing this. I owe you, I know. How was it? What was he like?" Oh no – here we go, the Rukia Kuchiki Inquisition.

I struggle to answer her question. What can I say?

"I'm glad it's over, and I don't have to see him again. He was rather intimidating, you know." I shrug. "He's much focused, intense even – and young. Really young."

Rukia gazes innocently at me. I frown at her.

"Don't you look so innocent? Why didn't you give me a biography? He made me feel like such an idiot for skimping on basic research." Rukia clamps a hand to her mouth.

"Jeez, Orihime, I'm sorry – I didn't think."

I huff.

"Mostly he was courteous, formal, and slightly stuffy – like he's old before his time. He doesn't talk like a man of twenty-something. How old is he anyway?"

"Twenty-seven. Jeez, Orihime, I'm sorry. I should have briefed you, but I was in such a panic. Let me have the mini-disc, and I'll start transcribing the interview."

"You look better. Did you eat your soup?" I ask, keen to change the subject.

"Yes, and it was delicious as usual. I'm feeling much better." She smiles at me in gratitude. I check my watch.

"I have to run. I can still make my shift at Asano's."

"Orihime, you'll be exhausted."

"I'll be fine. I'll see you later."

* * *

I've worked at Asano's since I started at Karakura U. It's the largest independent hardware store in the Karakura Town area, and over the four years I've worked here, I've come to now a little bit about most everything we sell – although ironically, I'm crap at any DIY. I leave all that to my dad. I'm much more of a curl-up-with-a-book-in-a-comfy-chair-by-the-fire kind of girl. I'm glad I can make my shift as it gives me something to focus on that isn't Ichigo Kurosaki. We're busy – it's the start of the summer season, and folks are redecorating their homes. Mrs. Asano is pleased to see me.

"Orihime! I thought you weren't going to make it today."

"My appointment didn't take as long as I thought. I can do a couple of hours."

"I'm real pleased to see you."

She sends me to the storeroom to start re-stocking shelves, and I'm soon absorbed in the task.

* * *

When I arrive home later, Rukia is wearing headphones and working on her laptop. Her nose is still pink, but she has her teeth into a story, so she's concentrating and typing furiously. I'm thoroughly drained – exhausted by the long drive, the grueling interview, and by being rushed off my feet at Asano's. I slump on to the couch, thinking about the essay I have to finish and all the studying I haven't done today because I was holed up with… him.

"You've got some good stuff here, Orihime. Well done. I can't believe you didn't take him up on his offer to show you around. He obviously wanted to spend more time with you." She gives me a fleeting quizzical look.

I flush, and my heart rate inexplicably increases. That wasn't the reason, surely? He just wanted to show me around so I could see that he was lord of all he surveyed. I realize I'm biting my lip, and I hope Rukia doesn't notice. But she seems absorbed in her transcription.

"I hear what you mean about formal. Did you take any notes?" she asks.

"Um… no, I didn't."

"That's fine. I can still make a fine article with this. Shame we don't have some original stills. Good-looking son of a bitch, isn't he?"

I flush.

"I suppose so." I try hard to sound disinterested, and I think I succeed.

"Oh come on, Orihime – even you can't be immune to his looks." She arches a perfect eyebrow at me.

Crap! I distract her with flattery, always a good ploy.

"You probably would have got a lot more out of him."

"I doubt that, Orihime. Come on – he practically offered you a job. She glances up at me speculatively. I make a hasty retreat into the kitchen.

"So what did you really think of him?" Damn, she's inquisitive. Why can't she just let this go? Think of something – quick.

"He's very driven, controlling, arrogant – scary really, but very charismatic. I can understand the fascination," I add truthfully, as I peer round the door at her hoping this will shut her up once and for all.

"You, fascinated by a man? That's a first," she snorts.

I start gathering the makings of a sandwich so she can't see my face.

"Why did you want to know if he was gay? Incidentally, that was the most embarrassing question. I was mortified, and he was pissed to be asked too." I scowl at the memory.

"Whenever he's in the society pages, he never has a date."

"It was embarrassing. The whole thing was embarrassing. I'm glad I'll never have to lay eyes on him again."

"Oh, Orihime, it can't have been that bad. I think he sounds quite taken with you."

Taken with me? Now Rukia's being ridiculous.

"Would you like a sandwich?"

"Please."

We talk no more of Ichigo Kurosaki that evening, much to my relief. Once we've eaten, I'm able to sit at the dining table with Rukia and, while she works on her article, I work on my essay on Tess of the D'Urbervilles. Damn, but that woman was in the wrong place at the wrong time in the wrong century. By the time I finish, it's midnight, and Rukia has long since gone to bed. I make my way to my room, exhausted, but pleased that I've accomplished so much for a Monday.

I curl up in my white iron bed, wrapping my mother's quilt around me, close my eyes, and I'm instantly asleep. That night I dream of dark places, bleak white cold floors, and chocolate eyes.

For the rest of the week, I throw myself into my studies and my job at Asano's. Rukia is busy too, compiling her last edition of her student magazine before she has to relinquish it to the new editor while also cramming for her finals. By Wednesday, she's much better, and I no longer have to endure the sight of her pink-flannel-with-too-many-rabbits PJs.

I call my mom in Okazaki to check on her, but also so she can wish me luck for my final exams. She proceeds to tell me about her latest venture into candle making – my mother is all about new business ventures. Fundamentally she's bored and wants something to occupy her time, but she has the attention span of a goldfish. It'll be something new next week. She worries me. I hope she hasn't mortgaged the house to finance this latest scheme. And I hope that Gin – her relatively new but much older husband – is keeping an eye on her now that I'm no longer there. He does seem a lot more grounded than Husband Number Three.

"How are things with you, Orihime?"

For a moment, I hesitate, and I have Mom's full attention.

"I'm fine."

"Orihime? Have you met someone?" Wow… how does she do that? The excitement in her voice is palpable.

"No, Mom, it's nothing. You'll be the first to know if I do."

"Orihime, you really need to get out more, honey. You worry me."

"Mom, I'm fine. How's Gin?" As ever, distraction is the best policy.

Later that evening, I call Shunsui, my stepdad, Mom's Husband Number Two, the man I consider my father. It's a brief conversation. In fact, it's not so much a conversation as a one-sided series of grunts in response to my gentle coaxing. Shunsui is not a talker. But he's still alive; he's still watching soccer on TV, and going bowling and fly-fishing or drinking sake when he's not. Shunsui is a skilled carpenter and the reason I know the difference between a hawk and a handsaw. All seems well with him.

* * *

Friday night, Rukia and I are debating what to do with our evening – we want some time out from our studies, from our work, and from student newspapers – when the doorbell rings. Standing on our doorstep is my good friend Uryū, clutching a bottle of champagne.

"Uryū! Great to see you!" I give him a quick hug. "Come in."

Uryū is the first person I met when I arrived at Karakura U, looking as lost and lonely as I did. We recognized a kindred spirit in each of us that day, and we've been friends ever since. Not only do we share a sense of humor, but we discovered that both Shunsui and Jūshirō were in the same army unit together. As a result, our fathers have become firm friends too.

Uryū is studying medicine and is the first in his family to make it to college. He's pretty damn bright, but his real passion is photography. Uryū has a great eye for a good picture.

"I have news." He grins, his dark eyes twinkling.

"Don't tell me – you've managed not to get kicked out for another week," I tease, and he scowls playfully at me.

"The Karakura Place Gallery is going to exhibit my photos next month."

"That's amazing – congratulations!" Delighted for him, I hug him again. Rukia beams at him too.

"Way to go Uryū! I should put this in the paper. Nothing like last minute editorial changes on a Friday evening." She grins.

"Let's celebrate. I want you to come to the opening." Uryū looks intently at me. I flush. "Both of you, of course," he adds, glancing nervously at Rukia.

Uryū and I are good friends, but I know deep down inside, he'd like to be more. He's cute and funny, but he's just not for me. He's more like the brother I never had. Rukia often teases me that I'm missing the need-a-boyfriend gene, but the truth is – I just haven't met anyone who… well, whom I'm attracted to, even though part of me longs for those trembling knees, heart-in-my-mouth, butterflies-in-my-belly, sleepless nights.

Sometimes I wonder if there's something wrong with me. Perhaps I've spent too long in the company of my literary romantic heroes, and consequently my ideals and expectations are far too high. But in reality, nobody's ever made me feel like that.

Until very recently, the unwelcome, still small voice of my subconscious whispers. NO! I banish the thought immediately. I am not going there, not after that painful interview. Are you gay, Mr. Kurosaki? I wince at the memory. I know I've dreamt about him most nights since then, but that's just to purge the awful experience from my system, surely?

I watch Uryū open the bottle of champagne. He's tall, and in his jeans and t-shirt he's all shoulders and slim, dark hair and burning dark eyes. Yes, Uryū's pretty hot, but I think he's finally getting the message: we're just friends. The cork makes its loud pop and Uryū looks up and smiles.

* * *

Saturday at the store is a nightmare. We are besieged by do-it-yourselfers wanting to spruce up their homes. But there's a lull around lunchtime, and Mrs. Asano asks me to check on some orders while I'm sitting behind the counter at the till discreetly eating my bagel. I'm engrossed in the task, checking catalogue numbers against the items we need and the items we've ordered, eyes flicking from the order book to the computer screen and back as I check the entries match. Then, for some reason, I glance up… and find myself locked in the bold chocolate gaze of Ichigo Kurosaki who's standing at the counter, staring at me intently.

Heart failure.

"Miss Inoue. What a pleasant surprise." His gaze is unwavering and intense.

Holy crap. What the hell is he doing here looking all tousled-hair and outdoorsy in his cream chunky-knit sweater, jeans, and walking boots? I think my mouth has popped open, and I can't locate my brain or my voice.

"Mr. Kurosaki," I whisper, because that's all I can manage. There's a ghost of a smile on his lips and his eyes are alight with humor, as if he's enjoying some private joke.

"I was in the area," he says by way of explanation. "I need to stock up on a few things. It's a pleasure to see you again, Miss Inoue." His voice is warm and husky like dark melted chocolate fudge caramel… or something.

I shake my head to gather my wits. My heart is pounding and for some reason I'm blushing furiously under his steady scrutiny. I am utterly thrown by the sight of him standing before me. My memories of him did not do him justice. He's not merely good-looking – he's the epitome of male beauty, breathtaking, and he's here. Here in Asano's Hardware Store. Go figure. Finally my cognitive functions are restored and reconnected with the rest of my body.

"Orihime. My name's Orihime," I mutter. "What can I help you with, Mr. Kurosaki?"

He smiles, and again it's like he's privy to some big secret. It is so disconcerting. Taking a deep breath, I put on my professional I've-worked-in-this-shop-for-years façade. I can do this.

"There are a few items I need. To start with, I'd like some cable ties," he murmurs, his chocolate eyes cool but amused.

Cable ties?

"We stock various lengths. Shall I show you?" I mutter my voice soft and waver. Get a grip, Inoue. A slight frown mars Kurosaki rather lovely brow.

"Please. Lead the way, Miss Inoue," he says. I try for nonchalance as I come out from behind the counter, but really I'm concentrating hard on not falling over my own feet – my legs are suddenly the consistency of Jell-O. I'm so glad I decided to wear my best jeans this morning.

"They're in with the electrical goods, aisle eight." My voice is a little too bright. I glance up at him and regret it almost immediately. Damn, he's handsome. I blush.

"After you," he murmurs, gesturing with his long-fingered, beautifully manicured hand.

With my heart almost strangling me – because it's in my throat trying to escape from my mouth – I head down one of the aisles to the electrical section. Why is he in Karakura Town? Why is he here at Asano's? And from a very tiny, underused part of my brain – probably located at the base of my medulla oblongata where my subconscious dwells – comes the thought: he's here to see you. No way! I dismiss it immediately. Why would this beautiful, powerful, urbane man want to see me? The idea is preposterous, and I kick it out of my head.

"Are you in Karakura Town on business?" I ask, and my voice is too high, like I've got my finger trapped in a door or something. Damn! Try to be cool Orihime!

"I was visiting the Karakura U farming division. I'm currently funding some research there in crop rotation and soil science," he says matter-of-factly. See? Not here to find you at all, my subconscious sneers at me, loud, proud, and pouty. I flush at my foolish wayward thoughts.

"All part of your feed-the-world plan?" I tease.

"Something like that," he acknowledges, and his lips quirk up in a half smile.

He gazes at the selection of cable ties we stock at Asano's. What on Earth is he going to do with those? I cannot picture him as a do-it-yourselfer at all. His fingers trail across the various packages displayed, and for some inexplicable reason, I have to look away. He bends and selects a packet.

"These will do," he says with his oh-so-secret smile, and I blush.

"Is there anything else?"

"I'd like some masking tape."

Masking tape?

"Are you redecorating?" The words are out before I can stop them. Surely he hires laborers or has staff to help him decorate?

"No, not redecorating," he says quickly then smirks, and I have the uncanny feeling that he's laughing at me.

Am I that funny? Funny looking?

"This way," I murmur embarrassed. "Masking tape is in the decorating aisle."

I glance behind me as he follows.

"Have you worked here long?" His voice is low, and he's gazing at me, chocolate eyes concentrating hard. I blush even more brightly. Why the hell does he have this effect on me? I feel like I'm fourteen years old – gauche, as always, and out of place. Eyes front Inoue!

"Four years," I mutter as we reach our goal. To distract myself, I reach down and select the two widths of masking tape that we stock.

"I'll take that one," Kurosaki says softly pointing to the wider tape, which I pass to him. Our fingers brush very briefly, and the current is there again, zapping through me like I've touched an exposed wire. I gasp involuntarily as I feel it, all the way down to somewhere dark and unexplored, deep in my belly. Desperately, I scrabble around for my equilibrium.

"Anything else?" My voice is husky and breathy. His eyes widen slightly.

"Some rope, I think." His voice mirrors mine, husky.

"This way." I duck my head down to hide my recurring blush and head for the aisle.

"What sort were you after? We have synthetic and natural filament rope… twine… cable cord… " I halt at his expression, his eyes darkening. Holy cow.

"I'll take five yards of the natural filament rope please."

Quickly, with trembling fingers, I measure out five yards against the fixed ruler, aware that his hot chocolate gaze is on me. I dare not look at him. Jeez, could I feel any more self-conscious? Taking my Stanley knife from the back pocket of my jeans, I cut it then coil it neatly before tying it in a slipknot. By some miracle, I manage not to remove a finger with my knife.

"Were you a Girl Scout?" he asks, sculptured, sensual lips curled in amusement. Don't look at his mouth!

"Organized, group activities aren't really my thing, Mr. Kurosaki."

He arches a brow.

"What is your thing, Orihime?" he asks his voice soft and his secret smile is back. I gaze at him unable to express myself. I'm on shifting tectonic plates. Try and be cool, Orihime, my tortured subconscious begs on bended knee.

"Books," I whisper, but inside, my subconscious is screaming: You! You are my thing! I slap it down instantly, mortified that my psyche is having ideas above its station.

"What kind of books?" He cocks his head to one side. Why is he so interested?

"Oh, you know. The usual. The classics. British literature, mainly."

He rubs his chin with his long index finger and thumb as he contemplates my answer. Or perhaps he's just very bored and trying to hide it.

"Anything else you need?" I have to get off this subject – those fingers on that face are so beguiling.

"I don't know. What else would you recommend?"

What would I recommend? I don't even know what you're doing.

"For a do-it-yourselfer?"

He nods chocolate eyes alive with wicked humor. I flush, and my eyes stoop of their own accord to his snug jeans.

"Coveralls," I reply, and I know I'm no longer screening what's coming out of my mouth.

He raises an eyebrow, amused, yet again.

"You wouldn't want to ruin your clothing," I gesture vaguely in the direction of his jeans.

"I could always take them off." He smirks.

"Um." I feel the color in my cheeks rising again. I must be the color of a tomato a very ripe tomato. Stop talking. Stop talking NOW.

"I'll take some coveralls. Heaven forbid I should ruin any clothing," he says dryly.

I try and dismiss the unwelcome image of him without jeans.

"Do you need anything else?" I squeak as I hand him the blue coveralls.

He ignores my inquiry.

"How's the article coming along?"

He's finally asked me a normal question, away from all the innuendo and the confusing double talk… a question I can answer. I grasp it tightly with two hands as if were a life raft, and I go for honesty.

"I'm not writing it, Rukia is. Miss Kuchiki. My roommate, she's the writer. She's very happy with it. She's the editor of the magazine, and she was devastated that she couldn't do the interview in person." I feel like I've come up for air – at last, a normal topic of conversation. "Her only concern is that she doesn't have any original photographs of you."

Kurosaki raises an eyebrow.

"What sort of photographs does she want?"

Okay. I hadn't factored in this response. I shake my head, because I just don't know.

"Well, I'm around. Tomorrow, perhaps… " he trails off.

"You'd be willing to attend a photo shoot?" My voice is squeaky again. Rukia will be in seventh heaven if I can pull this off. And you might see him again tomorrow, that dark place at the base of my brain whispers seductively at me. I dismiss the thought – of all the silly, ridiculous…

"Rukia will be delighted – if we can find a photographer." I'm so pleased, I smile at him broadly. His lips part, like he's taking a sharp intake of breath, and he blinks. For a fraction of a second, he looks lost somehow, and the Earth shifts slightly on its axis, the tectonic plates sliding into a new position.

Oh my. Ichigo Kurosaki's lost look.

"Let me know about tomorrow." Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out his wallet. "My card. It has my cell number on it. You'll need to call before ten in the morning."

"Okay." I grin up at him. Rukia is going to be thrilled.

"ORIHIME!"

Keigo has materialized at other the end of the aisle. He's Mr. Asano's sons. I'd heard he was home from Aichi Bunkyo University, but I wasn't expecting to see him today.

"Er, excuse me for a moment, Mr. Kurosaki." Kurosaki frowns as I turn away from him.

Keigo has always been a buddy, and in this strange moment that I'm having with the rich, powerful, awesomely off-the-scale attractive control-freak Kurosaki, it's great to talk to someone who's normal. Keigo hugs me hard taking me by surprise.

"Orihime, hi, it's so good to see you!" he gushes.

"Hello Keigo, how are you? You home for your sister's birthday?"

"Yep. You're looking well, Orihime, really well." He grins as he examines me at arm's length. Then he releases me but keeps a possessive arm draped over my shoulder. I shuffle from foot to foot, embarrassed. It's good to see Keigo, but he's always been over-familiar.

When I glance up at Ichigo Kurosaki, he's watching us like a hawk, his chocolate eyes hooded and speculative, his mouth a hard impassive line. He's changed from the weirdly attentive customer to someone else – someone cold and distant.

"Keigo, I'm with a customer. Someone you should meet," I say, trying to defuse the antagonism I see in Kurosaki eyes. I drag Keigo over to meet him, and they weigh each other up. The atmosphere is suddenly arctic.

"Er, Keigo, this is Ichigo Kurosaki. Mr. Kurosaki, this is Keigo Asano. His dad owns the place." And for some irrational reason, I feel I have to explain a bit more.

"I've known Keigo ever since I've worked here, though we don't see each other that often. He's back from Aichi Bunkyo University where he's studying business administration." I'm babbling… Stop, now!

"Mr. Asano." Ichigo holds his hand out, his look unreadable.

"Mr. Kurosaki," Keigo returns his handshake. "Wait up – not the Ichigo Kurosaki? Of Kurosaki Enterprises Holdings?" Keigo goes from surly to awestruck in less than a nanosecond. Kurosaki gives him a polite smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

"Wow – is there anything I can get you?"

"Orihime has it covered, Mr. Asano. She's been very attentive." His expression is impassive, but his words… it's like he's saying something else entirely. It's baffling.

"Cool," Keigo responds. "Catch you later, Orihime."

"Sure, Keigo." I watch him disappear toward the stock room. "Anything else, Mr. Kurosaki?"

"Just these items." His tone is clipped and cool. Damn… have I offended him? Taking a deep breath, I turn and head for the till. What is his problem?

I ring up the rope, coveralls, masking tape, and cable ties at the till.

"That will be forty-three dollars, please." I glance up at Kurosaki, and I wish I hadn't. He's watching me closely, his chocolate eyes intense and smoky. It's unnerving.

"Would you like a bag?" I ask as I take his credit card.

"Please, Orihime." His tongue caresses my name, and my heart once again is frantic. I can hardly breathe. Hurriedly, I place his purchases in a plastic carrier.

"You'll call me if you want me to do the photo shoot?" He's all business once more. I nod, rendered speechless yet again, and hand back his credit card.

"Good. Until tomorrow perhaps." He turns to leave, then pauses. "Oh – and Orihime, I'm glad Miss Kuchiki couldn't do the interview." He smiles, then strides with renewed purpose out of the store, slinging the plastic bag over his shoulder, leaving me a quivering mass of raging female hormones. I spend several minutes staring at the closed door through which he's just left before I return to planet Earth.

Okay – I like him. There, I've admitted it to myself. I cannot hide from my feelings anymore. I've never felt like this before. I find him attractive, very attractive. But it's a lost cause, I know, and I sigh with bittersweet regret. It was just a coincidence, his coming here. But still, I can admire him from afar, surely? No harm can come of that. And if I find a photographer, I can do some serious admiring tomorrow. I bite my lip in anticipation and find myself grinning like a schoolgirl. I need to phone Rukia and organize a photo-shoot.

* * *

Hum….so what do you think? Please review. Gwen-chan out!


	3. Chapter 3

**Title**: 50 Shades of Kurosaki

**WARNINGS**: This story is for mature individuals _**NOT FOR ANYONE UNDERAGE**_. I do not write to corrupt young curious children. If you are underage leave this story NOW! Now that's out of the way. This story is OOC and AU (sorry). This is also a kinky love story.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing! Tite Kubo owns the rights for bleach and E. L. James owns 50 Shades Trilogy.

**A/N:** _Hello everyone_ _and thank you for the wonderful reviews. I hope you all keep reading. I still like to personally thank SourxApples and Captain Levi, you guys are the best. Please check out "The Goti 13 and The Vampire Lord" by SourxApples and "The Demon Within" by Captain Levi. You guys must read these I just love them. Enjoy! _

* * *

Rukia is ecstatic.

"But what was he doing at Asano's?" I'm in the depths of the stock room, trying to keep my voice casual.

"He was in the area."

"I think that is one huge coincidence, Orihime. You don't think he was there to see you?" My heart lurches at the prospect, but it's a short-lived joy.

"He was visiting the farming division of Tokyo U. He's funding some research," I mutter.

"Oh yes. He's given the department a $2.5 million grant."

_Wow._

"How do you know this?"

"Orihime, I'm a journalist, and I've written a profile on the guy. It's my job to know this."

"Okay, so do you want these photos?"

"Of course I do. The question is, who's going to do them and where."

"We could ask him where. He says he's staying in the area."

"You can contact him?"

"I have his cell phone number."

Rukia gasps.

"The richest, most elusive bachelor in Tokyo just gave you his cell phone number."

"Er… yes."

"Orihime! He likes you. No doubt about it."

"Rukia, he's just trying to be nice." But even as I say the words, I know they're not true – Ichigo Kurosaki doesn't do _nice. _He does polite, maybe.

My scalp prickles at the idea that maybe, just maybe, he might like me. After all, he did say he was glad Rukia didn't do the interview. I hug myself with quiet glee, entertaining the possibility that he might like me for one brief moment. Rukia brings me back to the now.

"I don't know who we'll get to do the shoot. Rin, our regular photographer, can't.

"Hmm… What about Uryū?"

"Great idea! You ask him – he'll do anything for you. Then call Kurosaki and find out where he wants us "I think you should call him."

"Who, Uryū?" Rukia scoffs.

"No, Kurosaki."

"Orihime, you're the one with the relationship."

"Relationship?" I squeak at her, my voice raising several octaves. "I barely know the guy."

"At least you've met him," she says bitterly. "And it looks like he wants to know you better. Orihime, just call him," she snaps and hangs up. She is so bossy sometimes. I frown at my cell, sticking my tongue out at it.

"But I do places, Orihime, not people," Uryū groans.

"Uryū, please?" I beg.

"Give me that phone." Rukia grabs the handset from me.

"Listen here, Uryū Ishida, if you want our newspaper to cover the opening of your show, you'll do this shoot for us tomorrow, got it?" Rukia can be awesomely tough.

"Good. Orihime will call back with the location and the call time. We'll see you tomorrow." She snaps my cell phone shut.

Call him." She holds the phone out to me. My stomach twists.

"Call Kurosaki, now!"

I scowl at her and reach into my back pocket for his business card. I take a deep breath, and with shaking fingers, I dial the number.

He answers on the second ring. His tone is calm and cold.

"Kurosaki."

"Err… Mr. Kurosaki? It's Orihime Inoue." I'm so nervous.

There's a brief pause.

"Miss Inoue. How nice it is to hear from you." His voice has changed. He's surprised, I think, and he sounds so… warm – _seductive _even. My breath hitches, and I flush.

I'm suddenly conscious that Rukia is staring at me.

"Err – we'd like to go ahead with the photo-shoot for the article." _Breathe, Orihime. _"Tomorrow, if that's okay. Where would be convenient for you, sir?"

I can almost hear his sphinx-like smile through the phone.

"I'm staying at the Tsuma Hotel in Karakura. Shall we say, nine thirty in the morning?"

"Okay, we'll see you there."

"I look forward to it, Miss Inoue."

I visualize the wicked gleam in his chocolate eyes. _How can he make seven little words hold so much tantalizing promise? _I hang up. Rukia is in the kitchen, and she's staring at me with a look of complete and utter consternation on her face.

"Orihime Inoue. You like him! I've never seen or heard you so, so… affected by anyone before. You're actually blushing."

"Oh Rukia, you know I blush all the time. It's an occupational hazard with me. Don't be so ridiculous," I snap. "I just find him… intimidating, that's all."

* * *

I am restless that night, tossing and turning. I dreamed of chocolate eyes, long legs, long fingers, and dark, dark unexplored places. I wake twice in the night, my heart pounding. _Oh, I'm going to look just great tomorrow with so little sleep, _I scold myself. I punch my pillow and try to sleep.

* * *

The Tsuma Hotel is nestled in the downtown heart of Karakura. Rukia explains at reception that we're here to photograph Ichigo Kurosaki. The hotel instantly upgraded us to a suite for the shoot. It was just a regular-sized suite, however, as Mr. Kurosaki is already occupying the largest one in the building.

The rooms are elegant and understated.

It's nine. We have half an hour to set up. Rukia is in full charge.

"Uryū, I think we'll shoot against that wall, do you agree?" She doesn't wait for his reply.

Orihime, could you ask housekeeping to bring up some refreshments? And let Kurosaki know where we are."

_Yes, Mistress. _She is so domineering. I roll my eyes, but do as I'm told.

Half an hour later, Ichigo Kurosaki walks into our suite.

_Holy Crap! _He's wearing a white shirt, open at the collar, and flannel pants that hang from his hips. His unruly spiky hair is still damp from a shower. My mouth goes dry looking at him… he's so freaking _hot._

Kurosaki is followed into the suite by a man in his mid-thirties, dark skinned in a sharp dark suit. He stands silently in the corner. His deep brown eyes watch us impassively.

"Miss Inoue, we meet again." Kurosaki extends his hand, and I shake it. Oh my… he really is, quite… wow. As I touch his hand, I'm aware of that delicious cur rent running right through me, lighting me up, making me blush, and I'm sure my erratic breathing must be audible.

"Mr. Kurosaki, this is Rukia Kuchiki," I wave a hand toward Rukia who comes forward, looking him squarely in the eye.

"The tenacious Miss Rukia Kuchiki. How do you do?" He gives her a small smile, look ing genuinely amused. "I trust you're feeling better? Orihime said you were unwell last week."

"I'm fine, thank you, Mr. Kurosaki." She shakes his hand firmly without batting an eyelid. I remind myself that Rukia has been to the best private schools. Her family has money, and she's grown up confident in the world. She doesn't take any crap. I am in awe of her.

"Thank you for taking the time to do this." She gives him a polite, professional smile.

"It's a pleasure," he answers, turning his chocolate gaze on me, and I flush, again.

"This is Uryū Ishida, our photographer," I say, grinning at Uryū who smiles with affection back at me. His eyes darken when he looks from me to Kurosaki.

"Mr. Kurosaki," he nods.

"Mr. Idhida," Kurosaki's expression changes too as his aura darkens.

"Where would you like me?" Kurosaki asks him. His tone sounds vaguely threatening. But Rukia is not about to let Uryū run the show.

"Mr. Kurosaki– if you could sit here, please? She directs him to a chair set up against the wall.

I stand back and watch as Uryū proceeds to snap away. He takes several photographs.

Moving to the tripod, Uryū takes several more, while Kurosaki sits and poses, patiently and naturally, for about twenty minutes. My wish has come true: I can stand and admire Kurosaki. Twice our eyes lock, and I have to tear myself away from his mesmerizing gaze.

"I think we have enough," Uryū announces five minutes later.

"Great," says Rukia. "Thank you again, Mr. Kurosaki." She shakes his hand.

"I look forward to reading the article, Miss Kuchiki," murmurs Kurosaki, and turns to me, standing by the wall. "Will you walk with me, Miss Inoue?" he asks.

"Sure," I say, completely thrown. I glance anxiously at Rukia, who shrugs at me. I notice Uryū scowling behind her.

"Good day to you all," says Kurosaki as he opens the door, standing aside to allow me out first.

_Holy hell… what's this about? What does he want? _I pause in the hallway, fidgeting nervously as he emerges from the room with the man in the suit.

"I'll call you, Chad." Chad wanders back down the hall, and Kurosaki turns his burning chocolate gaze to me. _Crap… have I done something wrong?_

"I was wondering if you would join me for coffee this morning."

My heart slams into my mouth. A date? _Ichigo Kurosaki is asking me on a date. _He's asking if you want a coffee. _Maybe he thinks you haven't woken up yet, _my subconscious whines at me in a sneering mood again. I clear my throat trying to control my nerves.

"I have to drive everyone home," I murmur apologetically, twisting my hands and fingers in front of me.

"CHAD," he calls, making me jump. Chad, who had been retreating down the hall, turns and heads back toward us.

"Do they live close to the university?" Kurosaki asks, his voice soft and inquiring. I nod, too stunned to speak.

"Chad can take them. He's my driver.

"Mr. Kurosaki?" Chad asks when he reaches us, giving nothing away.

"Please, can you drive the photographer and Miss Kuchiki back home?"

"Certainly, sir," Chad replies.

"There. Now can you join me for coffee?" Kurosaki smiles as if it's a done deal.

I frown at him.

"Um – Mr. Kurosaki , this really… look, Chad doesn't have to drive them home, I'll swap vehicles with Rukia, if you give me a moment."

Kurosaki smiles a dazzling, unguarded, natural, all-teeth-showing, glorious smile. _Oh my where did that come from_… and he opens the door of the suite so I can re-enter.

I find Rukia in deep discussion with Uryū.

"Orihime, I think he definitely likes you," she says with no preamble whatsoever. Uryū glares at me with disapproval. "Rukia, if you take the Beetle, can I take your car?"

"Why?"

"Ichigo Kurosaki has asked me to go for coffee with him."

Her mouth pops open. Speechless Rukia! I savor the moment. She grabs me by my arm and drags me into the bedroom.

"Orihime, there's something about him." Her tone is full of warning. "He's gorgeous, I agree, but I think he's dangerous. Especially to someone like you."

"What do you mean, someone like me?"

"An innocent like you, Orihime. You know what I mean," she says a little irritated. I flush.

"Rukia, it's just coffee. I won't be long."

She purses her lips as if considering my request. Finally, she takes her car keys out of her pocket and hands them to me.

"I'll see you later. Don't be long, or I'll send out search and rescue."

"Thanks." I hug her.

I emerge from the suite to find Ichigo Kurosaki waiting, leaning up against the wall, looking like a male model in a high-end magazine.

"Okay, let's do coffee," I say, flushing a beet red.

He grins.

"After you, Miss Inoue." He stands up straight, holding his hand out for me to go first. I make my way down the hall, my knees are shaky, my stomach is full of butterflies, and my heart is in my mouth thumping a dramatic uneven beat. _I am going to have coffee with Ichigo Kurosaki ... and I hate coffee._

We walk together down to the elevators. _What should I say to him? _My mind is suddenly paralyzed. What are we going to talk about? What on Earth do I have in common with him? His soft, warm voice startles me from my thoughts.

"How long have you known Rukia Kuchiki?"

Oh, an easy questions for starters.

"Since our freshman year. She's a good friend."

"Hmm," he replies, non-committal. What is he thinking?

At the elevators, he presses the call button, and the bell rings almost immediately. The doors slide open revealing a young couple in a passionate clinch inside. Surprised and embarrassed, they jump apart, staring guiltily in every direction but ours. Kurosaki and I step into the elevator.

I am struggling to maintain a straight face, so I gaze down at the floor, feeling my cheeks turning pink. When I peek up at Kurosaki through my lashes, he has a hint of a smile on his lips, but it's very hard to tell. The young couple says nothing, and we travel down to the first floor in embarrassed silence.

The doors open and, much to my surprise, Kurosaki takes my hand, clasping it with his long cool fingers. I feel the current run through me, and my already rapid heartbeat accelerates. As he leads me out of the elevator, we can hear the suppressed giggles of the couple erupting behind us. Kurosaki grins.

"What is it about elevators?" he mutters.

We cross the expansive, bustling lobby of the hotel toward the entrance but Kurosaki avoids the revolving door, and I wonder if that's because he'd have to let go of my hand.

Outside, the sun is shining and the traffic is light. Kurosaki turns left and strolls to the corner of the street, where we stop waiting for the lights of the pedestrian crossing to change. He's still holding my hand. _I'm in the street, and Ichigo Kurosaki is holding my hand. _No one has ever held my hand. I feel giddy, and I tingle all over. I attempt to smother the ridiculous grin that threatens to split my face in two. _Try to be cool, Orihime, _my subconscious implores me. The sign changes and we're off again.

We walk four blocks before we reach the Karakura Coffee House, where Kurosaki releases me to hold the door open so I can step inside.

"Why don't you choose a table, while I get the drinks? What would you like?" he asks, polite as ever.

"I'll have… um – a cup of tea."

He raises his eyebrows.

"No coffee?"

"I'm not keen on coffee."

He smiles.

"Okay. Sugar?"

For a moment, I'm stunned, thinking it's an endearment, but fortunately my subconscious kicks in with pursed lips. _No, stupid – do you take sugar?_

"No thanks." I stare down at my knotted fingers.

"Anything to eat?"

"No thank you." I shake my head, and he heads to the counter.

I surreptitiously gaze at him from beneath my lashes as he stands in line waiting to be served.

I could watch him all day… he's tall, broad-shouldered, and slim, and the way those pants hang from his hips… _Oh my. _Once or twice he runs his long, graceful fingers through his now dry but still disorderly spiky hair. _Hmm… I'd like to do that. _The thought comes unbidden into my mind, and my face flames. I bite my lip and stare down at my hands again not liking where my wayward thoughts are headed.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Kurosaki is back, startling me.

I go crimson. _I was just thinking about running my fingers through your hair and wondering if it would feel soft to touch. _I shake my head. He's carrying a tray, which he sets down on the small round table. He hands me a cup and saucer, a small teapot, and a side plate bearing a lone teabag.

He has a coffee which bears a wonderful leaf-pattern imprinted in the milk. _How do they do that? _I wonder idly. He's also bought himself a blueberry muffin. Putting the tray aside, he sits opposite me and crosses his long legs. He looks so comfortable, so at ease with his body, I envy him. Here's me, all gawky and uncoordinated, barely able to get from A to B without falling flat on my face.

"Your thoughts?" he prompts me.

"Thank you for the tea." My voice is quiet, breathy. I simply can't believe I'm sitting opposite Ichigo Kurosaki in a coffee shop in Karakura. He scowls. He knows I'm hiding something. I pop the teabag into the teapot and almost immediately fish it out again with my teaspoon. As I place the used teabag back on the side plate, he cocks his head gazing quizzically at me.

"I like my tea black and weak," I mutter.

"I see. Is he your boyfriend?"

_Whoa… What? _

"Who?"

"The photographer. Uryū Ishida."

I laugh, nervously. What gave him that impression?

"No. Uryū's a good friend of mine, that's all. Why did you think he was my boyfriend?"

"The way you smiled at him, and he at you." His chocolate gaze holds mine. He's so un nerving. I want to look away but I'm caught – spellbound.

"He's more like family," I whisper.

Kurosaki nods slightly, satisfied with my response and glances down at his blueberry muffin. His long fingers deftly peel back the paper, and I watch, fascinated.

"Do you want some?" he asks, and that amused, secret smile is back.

"No thanks." I frown and stare down at my hands again.

"And the boy I met yesterday, at the store. He's not your boyfriend?"

"No. Keigo's just a friend. I told you yesterday." Oh, this is getting silly. "Why do you ask?"

"You seem nervous around men."

Holy crap, that's personal. _I'm just nervous around you, Kurosaki._

"I find you intimidating." I flush scarlet, but mentally pat myself on the back for my candor, and gaze at my hands again. I hear his sharp intake of breath.

"You should find me intimidating," he nods. "You're very honest. Please don't look down. I like to see your face."

Oh. I glance at him, and he gives me an encouraging but wry smile.

"It gives me some sort of clue what you might be thinking," he breathes. "You're a mystery, Miss Inoue.

Mysterious? Me?

"There's nothing mysterious about me."

"I think you're very self-contained," he murmurs.

Am I? _Wow… how am I? _This is bewildering. _Me, self-contained? No Way._

"Except when you blush, of course, which is often. I just wish I knew what you were blushing about." He pops a small piece of muffin into his mouth and starts to chew it slowly, not taking his eyes off me. And as if on cue, I blush. _Crap!_

"Do you always make such personal observations?"

"I hadn't realized I was. Have I offended you?" He sounds surprised.

"No," I answer truthfully.

"Good."

"But you're very high-handed," I retaliate quietly.

He raises his eyebrows and, if I'm not mistaken, he flushes slightly too.

"I'm used to getting my own way, Orihime," he murmurs. "In all things."

"I don't doubt it. Why haven't you asked me to call you by your first name?" I'm surprised by my audacity. Why has this conversation become so serious? This isn't going the way I thought it was going to go. I can't believe I'm feeling so antagonistic towards him. It's like he's trying to warn me off.

"The only people who use my given name are my family and a few close friends. That's the way I like it."

Oh. He still hasn't said, 'Call me Ichigo.' He _is _a control freak, there's no other explanation, and part of me is thinking maybe it would have been better if Rukia had interviewed him. Two control freaks together. _And she's beautiful, _my subconscious reminds me. I don't like the idea of Ichigo and Rukia. I take a sip of my tea, and Kurosaki eats another small piece of his muffin.

"Are you an only child?" he asks.

_Whoa_… he keeps changing direction.

"Yes."

"Tell me about your parents."

Why does he want to know this? It's so _dull._

"My mom lives in Okazaki with her new husband Gin. My stepdad lives in Tesano."

"Your father?"

"My father died when I was a baby."

"I'm sorry," he mutters and a fleeting troubled look crosses his face.

"I don't remember him."

"And your mother remarried?"

I snort.

"You could say that."

He frowns at me.

"You're not giving much away, are you?" he says dryly, rubbing his chin as if in deep thought.

"Neither are you."

"You've interviewed me once already, and I can recollect some quite probing questions then." He smirks at me.

_Holy shit. _He's remembering the 'gay' question. Once again, I'm mortified. In years to come, I know, I'll need intensive therapy to not feel this embarrassed every time I recall the moment. I start babbling about my mother – anything to block _that _memory.

"My mom is wonderful. She's an incurable romantic. She's currently on her fourth husband."

Ichigo raises his eyebrows in surprise.

"I miss her," I continue. "She has Gin now. I just hope he can keep an eye on her and pick up the pieces when her harebrained schemes don't go as planned." I smile fondly. Ichigo is watching me intently, taking occasional sips of his coffee. I really shouldn't look at his mouth. It's unsettling. Those lips.

"Do you get along with your stepfather?"

"Of course. I grew up with him. He's the only father I know."

"And what's he like?"

"Shunsui? He's… taciturn."

"That's it?" Kurosaki asks, surprised.

I shrug. What does this man expect? My life story?

"Taciturn like his stepdaughter," Kurosaki prompts.

I refrain from rolling my eyes at him.

"He likes soccer – European soccer especially – and bowling, and fly-fishing, and drinking sake. Ex-army." I sigh.

"You lived with him?"

"Yes. My mom met Husband Number Three when I was fifteen. I stayed with Shunsui."

He frowns as if he doesn't understand.

"You didn't want to live with your mom?" he asks.

I blush. _This really is none of his business._

My home was in Tesano. And… you know my mom was newly married." I stop. My mom never talks about Husband Number Three. Where is Kurosaki going with this? This _is _none of his business. _Two can play at this game._

"Tell me about your parents," I ask.

He shrugs.

"My dad's a lawyer, my mom is a pediatrician. They live in Tokyo."

Oh… he's had an affluent upbringing. And I wonder about a successful couple who adopt three kids, and one of them turns into a beautiful man who takes on the business world and conquers it single-handed. What drove him to be that way? His folks must be proud.

"What do your siblings do?"

"Renji's in construction and my little sister is in Paris, studying cookery under some renowned French chef." His eyes cloud with irritation. He doesn't want to talk about his family or himself.

"I hear Paris is lovely," I murmur. Why doesn't he want to talk about his family? Is it because he's adopted?

"It's beautiful. Have you been?" he asks, his irritation forgotten.

"I've never left Japan." What is he hiding?

"Would you like to go?"

"To Paris?" I squeak. This has thrown me – who wouldn't want to go to Paris? "Of course," I concede. "But it's England that I'd really like to visit."

He cocks his head to one side, running his index finger across his lower lip… _oh my. _

"Because?"

I blink rapidly. _Concentrate, Inoue ._

"It's the home of Shakespeare, Austen, Thomas Hardy. I'd like to see the places that inspired those people to write such wonderful books."

All this talk of literary greats reminds me that I should be studying. I glance at my watch.

"I'd better go. I have to study."

"For your exams?"

"Yes. They start Tuesday."

"I'll walk you back."

"Thank you for the tea again, Mr. Kurosaki."

He smiles his odd _I've got a whopping big secret _smile.

"You're welcome, Orihime. It's my pleasure. Come," he commands, and holds his hand out to me. I take it, bemused, and follow him out of the coffee shop.

We stroll back to the hotel, and I'd like to say it's in companionable silence. He at least looks his usual calm, collected self. As for me, I'm desperately trying to gauge how our little coffee morning has gone. I feel like I've been interviewed for a position, but I'm not sure what it is.

"Do you always wear jeans?" he asks out of the blue.

"Mostly."

He nods. We're back at the intersection, across the road from the hotel. My mind is reeling. _What an odd question… _And I'm aware that our time together is limited. This is it. This was it, and I've completely blown it, I know. Perhaps he has someone.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" I blurt out. Holy crap - _I just said that out loud?_

His lips quirk up in a half-smile, and he looks down at me.

"No, Orihime. I don't do the girlfriend thing," he says softly.

Oh… _what does that mean? _He's not gay? Oh, maybe he is - crap! He must have lied to me in his interview. And for a moment, I think he's going to follow on with some explanation, some clue to this cryptic statement – but he doesn't. I have to go. I have to try to reassemble my thoughts. I have to get away from him. I walk forward, and I trip, stumbling headlong onto the road.

"Shit, Orihime!" Kurosaki cries. He tugs the hand that he's holding so hard that I fall back against him just as a cyclist whips past, narrowly missing me, heading the wrong way up this one-way street.

It all happens so fast – one minute I'm falling, the next I'm in his arms, and he's hold ing me tightly against his chest. I inhale his clean, spicy scent. He smells of fresh laundered linen and some expensive body-wash. _Oh my, _it's intoxicating. I inhale deeply.

"Are you okay?" he whispers. He has one arm around me, clasping me to him, while the fingers of his other hand softly trace my face, gently probing, examining me. His thumb brushes my lower lip, and I hear his breath hitch.

He's staring into my eyes, and I hold his anxious, burning gaze for a moment or maybe it's forever… but eventually, my attention is drawn to his beautiful mouth. _Oh my. _

And for the first time in twenty-one years, I want to be kissed. I want to feel his mouth on me.

* * *

Okay I know everyone is pissed at me for ending this chapter here. Will he kiss her? Hum…questions….questions. You will have to wait for chapter 4. Let me know what you think. Gwen-chan out!


	4. Chapter 4

**Title**: 50 Shades of Kurosaki

**WARNINGS**: This story is for mature individuals _**NOT FOR ANYONE UNDERAGE**_. I do not write to corrupt young curious children. If you are underage leave this story NOW! Now that's out of the way. This story is OOC and AU (sorry). This is also a kinky love story. There will be stronger language in this chapter. You have been warned.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing! Tite Kubo owns the rights for bleach and E. L. James owns 50 Shades Trilogy.

**A/N:** _Hello everyone_ _and thank you for the reviews. I am an evil lil minx, yes I am. It's nice to know that I now have mob fans that know where to find me….hum…anyway, I hope you all keep reading. I still like to personally thank SourxApples and Captain Levi, you guys are the best. Please check out their stories. If you're not reading these stories something is wrong with you. Enjoy!_

_{rock solid…enough said}_

* * *

_Kiss me damn it! _I implore him, but I can't move. I'm staring at Ichigo Kurosaki exquisitely sculptured mouth, mesmerized, and he's looking down at me, his gaze hooded, his eyes darkening.

He's breathing harder than usual, and I've stopped breathing altogether. _I'm in your arms. Kiss me, please. _He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and gives me a small shake of his head as if in answer to my silent question. When he opens his eyes again, it's with some new purpose, a steely resolve.

"Orihime, you should steer clear of me. I'm not the man for you," he whispers. _What? Where is this coming from? _Surely I should be the judge of that. I frown up at him, and my head swims with rejection.

"Breathe, Orihime, breathe. I'm going to stand you up and let you go," he says quietly, and he gently pushes me away.

Adrenaline has spiked through my body, from the near miss with the cyclist or the heady proximity to Ichigo, leaving me wired and weak. _NO! _My psyche screams as he pulls away, leaving me bereft. And the only thing I can think is that I wanted to be kissed, made it pretty damned obvious, and he didn't do it. _He doesn't want me. _He really doesn't want me. I have royally screwed up the coffee morning.

"I've got this," I breathe, finding my voice. "Thank you," I mutter awash with humiliation. How could I have misread the situation between us so utterly? I need to get away from him.

"For what?" he frowns. He hasn't taken his hands off me. "For saving me," I whisper.

"That idiot was riding the wrong way. I'm glad I was here. I shudder to think what could have happened to you. Do you want to come and sit down in the hotel for a moment?" He releases me, his hands by his sides, and I'm standing in front of him feeling like a fool.

I just want to go. He doesn't want me. _What was I thinking? _I scold myself. _What would Ichigo Kurosaki want with you? _My subconscious mocks me. I wrap my arms around my self and turn to face the road and note with relief that I can cross. Outside the hotel, I turn briefly to face him but cannot look him in the eye.

"Thanks for the tea and doing the photo shoot," I murmur.

"Orihime… I… " He stops, and the anguish in his voice demands my attention, so I peer unwillingly up at him. His chocolate eyes are bleak as he runs his hand through his spiky hair. He looks torn, frustrated, his expression stark, all his careful control has evaporated.

"What, Ichigo?" I snap irritably after he says – nothing. I just want to go. I need to take my fragile, wounded pride away and somehow nurse it back to health.

"Good luck with your exams," he murmurs.

_Huh? _This is why he looks so desolate? This is the big send off? Just to wish me luck in my exams?

"Thanks." I can't disguise the sarcasm in my voice. "Goodbye, Mr. Kurosaki." I turn on my heel, vaguely amazed that I don't trip, and without giving him a second glance, I disappear down the sidewalk toward the underground garage.

Once underneath I lean against the wall and put my head in my hands. What was I thinking? Unbidden and unwelcome tears pool in my eyes. _Why am I crying? _I sink to the ground, angry at myself for this senseless reaction. I am crying over the loss of something I never had. _How ridiculous. _Mourning something that never was – my dashed hopes, dashed dreams, and my soured expectations.

Maybe I should be kinder to the likes of Keigo Asano and Uryū Ishida, though I'm sure neither of them have been found sobbing alone. Perhaps I just need a good cry.

_Stop! Stop Now! - _My subconscious is screaming at me, g_et in the car, go home, do your studying. Forget about him… Now! _And stop all this self-pitying, wallowing crap.

I take a deep, steadying breath and stand up. _Get it together Inoue. _I head for Rukia's car, wiping the tears off my face as I do. I will not think of him again. I can just chalk this incident up to experience and concentrate on my exams.

* * *

Rukia is sitting at the dining table at her laptop when I arrive. Her welcoming smile fades when she sees me.

"Orihime what's wrong?"

Oh no… not the Rukia Kuchiki Inquisition. I shake my head at her in a _back-off now Rukia Kuchiki way _– but I might as well be dealing with a blind, deaf-mute.

"You've been crying," she has an exceptional gift for stating the damned obvious sometimes.

"What did that bastard do to you?" she growls, and her face – jeez, she's scary.

"Nothing Rukia." That's actually the problem.

"Then why have you been crying? She puts her arms around me and hugs me. I need to say something just to get her to back off.

"I was nearly knocked over by a cyclist." It's the best that I can do, but it distracts her momentarily from… him.

"Jeez Orihime – are you okay? Were you hurt?" She holds me at arm's length and does a quick visual check-up on me.

"No. Ichigo saved me," I whisper. "But I was quite shaken."

"I'm not surprised. How was coffee? I know you hate coffee."

"I had tea. It was fine, nothing to report really. I don't know why he asked me."

"He likes you Orihime." She drops her arms.

"Not anymore. I won't be seeing him again." Yes, I manage to sound matter of fact.

"Oh?"

Crap. She's intrigued. I head into the kitchen so that she can't see my face.

"Yeah… he's a little out of my league Rukia," I say as dryly as I can manage.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh Rukia, it's obvious." I whirl round and face her as she stands in the kitchen door way.

"Not to me," she says. "Okay, he's got more money than you, but then he has more money than most people in Japan!"

"Rukia he's–" I shrug.

"Orihime! For heaven's sake – how many times must I tell you? You're a total babe," she interrupts me. Oh no. She's off on this tirade again.

"Rukia, please. I need to study." I cut her short. She frowns.

"Do you want to see the article? It's finished. Uryū took some great pictures."

Do I need a visual reminder of the beautiful Ichigo _I-don't-want-you _Kurosaki?

"Sure," I magic a smile on to my face and stroll over to the laptop. And there he is, staring at me in black and white, staring at me and finding me lacking.

I pretend to read the article, all the time meeting his steady chocolate gaze, searching the photo for some clue as to why he's not the man for me – his own words to me. And it's suddenly, blindingly obvious. He's too gloriously good-looking. We are poles apart and from two very different worlds. His words make sense. He's not the man for me. This is what he meant, and it makes his rejection easier to accept… almost. I can live with this. I understand.

"Very good Rukia," I managed. "I'm going to study." I am not going to think about him again for now, I vow to myself, and opening my revision notes, I start to read.

* * *

My final exam is over. I feel the Cheshire cat grin spread over my face. It's probably the first time all week that I've smiled. It's Friday, and we shall be celebrating tonight, really celebrating. I might even get drunk! I've never been drunk before.

Rukia and I standing in front of our apartment. I am busily fishing around in my purse for my keys.

"Orihime, there's a package for you." Rukia is standing on the steps up to the front door holding a brown paper parcel. _Odd. _I haven't ordered anything from Amazon recently. Rukia gives me the parcel and takes my keys to open the front door. It's addressed to Miss Orihime Inoue. There's no sender's address or name. Perhaps it's from my mom or Shunsui.

"It's probably from my folks."

"Open it!" Rukia is excited.

I open the parcel, and inside I find a half leather box containing three seemingly identical old cloth-covered books in mint condition and a plain white card. Written on one side, in black ink in neat cursive handwriting, is:

_**Why didn't you tell me there was danger? Why didn't you warn me?**_

_**Ladies know what to guard against, because they read novels that tell them of these tricks….**_

I recognize the quote from _Tess. _I inspect the books closely, three volumes of _Tess of the D'Urbervilles. _I open the front cover. Written in an old typeface on the front plate is:

_'London: Jack R. Osgood, McIlvaine and Co., 1891.'_

Holy shit - they are first editions. They must be worth a fortune, and I know immediately who's sent them. Rukia is at my shoulder gazing at the books. She picks up the card.

"First Editions," I whisper.

"No." Rukia's eyes are wide with disbelief. "Kurosaki?"

I nod.

"Can't think of anyone else."

"What does this card mean?"

"I have no idea. I think it's a warning – honestly he keeps warning me off. I have no idea why." I frown.

"I know you don't want to talk about him, Orihime, but he's seriously into you.

I have not let myself dwell on Ichigo Kurosaki for the past week. Okay… so his chocolate eyes are still haunting my dreams, and I know it will take an eternity to expunge the feel of his arms around me and his wonderful fragrance from my brain. Why has he sent me this? He told me that I wasn't for him.

"This quote – Tess says it to her mother after Alec D'Urberville has had his wicked way with her."

"I know," muses Rukia. "What is he trying to say?"

"I don't know, and I don't care. I can't accept these from him. I'll send them back with an equally baffling quote from some obscure part of the book."

"The bit where Angel Clare says fuck off?" Rukia asks with a completely straight face.

"Yes, that bit." I giggle. I love Rukia, she's so loyal and supportive. I repack the books and leave them on the dining table.

* * *

The bar is loud and hectic, full of soon to be graduates out to get trashed. Uryū joins us. He won't graduate for another year, but he's in the mood to party and gets us into the spirit of our new-found freedom by buying a pitcher of margaritas for us all.

"So what now Orihime?" Uryū shouts at me over the noise.

"Rukia and I are moving to Tokyo. Rukia's parents have bought a condo there for her."

"Wow, how the other half live. But you'll be back for my show."

"Of course, Uryū, I wouldn't miss it for the world." I smile, and he puts his arm around my waist and pulls me close.

"It means a lot to me that you'll be there Orihime," he whispers in my ear. "Another margarita?"

"Uryū Ishida – are you trying to get me drunk? Because I think it's working." I giggle. "I think I'd better have a beer. I'll go get us a pitcher."

"More drink, Orihime!" Rukia bellows.

Rukia has the constitution of an ox. She's got her arm draped over Rin, one of our fellow English students and her usual photographer on her student newspaper. He only has eyes for Rukia. I move out of Uryū's hold and get up from our table. Whoa. Head spin. I have to grab the back of the chair. Tequila based cocktails are not a good idea.

I make my way to the bar and decide that I should visit the restroom while I am on my feet. _Good thinking, Orihime. _I stagger off through the crowd. Of course, there's a line, but at least it's quiet and cool in the corridor. I reach for my cell phone to relieve the boredom of waiting in line. _Hmm… Who did I last call? _Was it Uryū? Before that a number I don't recognize. Oh yes. Kurosaki, I think this is his number. I giggle. I have no idea what the time is, maybe I'll wake him. Perhaps he can tell me why he sent me those books and the cryptic message. If he wants me to stay away, he should leave me alone. I suppress a drunken grin and hit the automatic re-dial. He answers on the second ring.

"Orihime?" He's surprised to hear from me. Then my brain registers… how does he know it's me?

"Why did you send me the books?" I slur at him.

"Orihime, are you okay? You sound strange." His voice is filled with concern.

"I'm not the strange one, you are," I accuse. There - that told him, my courage fuelled by alcohol.

"Orihime, have you been drinking?"

"What's it to you?"

"I'm – curious. Where are you?"

"In a bar."

"Which bar?" He sounds exasperated.

"A bar in Karakura Town."

"How are you getting home?"

"I'll find a way." This conversation is not going how I expected.

"Which bar are you in?"

"Why did you send me the books, Ichigo?"

"Orihime, where are you, tell me now." His tone is so, so dictatorial, his usual control freak.

"You're so… domineering," I giggle.

"Orihime, so help me, where the fuck are you?"

Ichigo Kurosaki is swearing at me. I giggle again. "I'm in Karakura … s'a long way from Tokyo."

"Where in Karakura?"

"Goodnight, Ichigo."

"Orihime!"

I hang up. Ha! Though he didn't tell me about the books. I frown. Mission not accomplished. I am really quite drunk - my head swims uncomfortably as I shuffle with the line. Well, the object of the exercise was to get drunk. I have succeeded. This is what it's like – _probably not an experience to be repeated. _The line has moved, and it's now my turn.

Holy crap, did I just call Ichigo Kurosaki? Shit. My phone rings and it makes me jump. I yelp in surprise.

"Hi," I bleat timidly in to the phone.

"I'm coming to get you," he says and hangs up. Only Ichigo Kurosaki could sound so calm and so threatening at the same time.

_Holy crap. _My heart is thumping. Coming to get me? _Oh no. _I'm going to be sick… no… I'm fine. Hang on. He's just messing with my head. I didn't tell him where I was. He can't find me here. Besides, it will take him hours to get here from Tokyo, and we'll be long gone by then.

I wash my hands and check my face in the mirror. I look flushed and slightly unfocused. _Hmm… tequila._

I wait at the bar for what feels like an eternity for the pitcher of beer and eventually return to the table.

"You've been gone so long." Rukia scolds me. "Where were you?"

"I was in line for the restroom."

Uryū and Rin are having some heated debate. Uryū pauses in his tirade to pour us all beers, and I take a long sip.

"Rukia, I think I'd better step outside and get some fresh air."

"Orihime, you are such a lightweight."

"I'll be five minutes."

I make my way through the crowd again. I am beginning to feel nauseous, my head is spinning uncomfortably, and I'm a little unsteady on my feet. More unsteady than usual.

Drinking in the cool evening air in the parking lot makes me realize how drunk I am.

"Orihime," Uryū has joined me. "You okay?"

"I think I've just had a bit too much to drink." I smile weakly at him.

"Me too," he murmurs, and his dark eyes are watching me intently. "Do you need a hand?" he asks and steps closer, putting his arm around me.

"Uryū I'm okay. I've got this." I try and push him away rather feebly.

"Orihime, please," he whispers, and now he's holding me in his arms, pulling me close.

"Uryū, what you doing?"

"You know I like you Orihime, please." He has one hand at the small of my back holding me against him, the other at my chin tipping back my head. _Holy fuck… he's going to kiss me._

"No Uryū, stop – no." I push him and I cannot shift him. His hand has slipped into my hair, and he's holding my head in place.

"Please, Orihime," he whispers against my lips. His breath is soft and smells too sweet – of margarita and beer. He gently trails kisses along my jaw up to the side of my mouth. I feel panicky, drunk, and out of control. The feeling is suffocating.

"Uryū, no," I plead. _I don't want this. _You are my friend, and I think I'm going to throw up.

"I think the lady said no." A voice in the dark says quietly. Holy shit! Ichigo Kurosaki, he's here. How? Uryū releases me.

"Kurosaki," he says tersely. I glance anxiously up at Ichigo. He's glowering at Uryū, and he's furious. Crap. My stomach heaves, and I double over, my body no longer able to tolerate the alcohol, and I vomit spectacularly on to the ground.

Kurosaki grabs my hair and pulls it out of the firing line and gently leads me over to a raised flowerbed on the edge of the park ing lot.

"If you're going to throw up again, do it here. I'll hold you." He has one arm around my shoulders – the other is holding my hair in a makeshift ponytail down my back so it's off my face. I vow silently that I'll never ever drink again. This is just too appalling for words. Finally, it stops.

Kurosaki takes his hands off me and passes me a handkerchief. I wipe my mouth. I cannot bring myself to look at him. I'm swamped with shame, disgusted with myself. I want to be swallowed up by the azaleas in the flowerbed and be anywhere but here.

Uryū is still hovering by the entrance to the bar, watching us. I groan and put my head in my hands. This has to be the single worst moment of my life. I risk a peek at Ichigo. He's staring down at me, his face composed, giving nothing away.

Turning, I glance at Uryū who looks pretty shamefaced himself and, like me, intimidated by Kurosaki. I glare at him. I have a few choice words for my so-called friend, none of which I can repeat in front of Ichigo Kurosaki CEO. _Orihime who are you kidding, he's just seen you hurl all over the ground. There's no disguising your lack of ladylike behavior._

"I'll err… see you inside," Uryū mutters, but we both ignore him.

I'm on my own with Kurosaki. Double crap. What should I say to him? Apologize for the phone call.

"I'm sorry," I mutter, staring at the handkerchief which I am furiously worrying with my fingers. _It's so soft._

"What are you sorry for Orihime?"

"The phone call mainly, being sick. Oh, the list is endless," I murmur, feeling my skin coloring up. _Please, please can I die now?_

"We've all been here, perhaps not quite as dramatically as you," he says dryly. "It's about knowing your limits, Orihime. I mean, I'm all for pushing limits, but really this is beyond the pale. Do you make a habit of this kind of behavior?"

"No," I say. "I've never been drunk before and right now I have no desire to ever be again."

I begin to feel faint. He notices my dizziness and grabs me before I fall and hoists me into his arms, holding me close to his chest like a child.

"Come on, I'll take you home," he murmurs.

"I need to tell Rukia." _Holy Moses, I'm in his arms again._

"My brother can tell her."

"What?"

"My brother Renji is talking to Miss Kuchiki."

"Oh?" I don't understand.

"He was with me when you phoned."

"In Tokyo?" I'm confused.

"No, I'm staying at the Tsuma Hotel." _Still? Why?_

"How did you find me?"

"I tracked your cell phone Orihime."

Oh, of course he did. How is that possible? Is it legal? _Stalker, _my subconscious whispers at me through the cloud of tequila that's still floating in my brain, but somehow, because it's him, I don't mind.

"Do you have a jacket or a purse?"

"Err… yes, I came with both. Ichigo, please, I need to tell Rukia. She'll worry." His mouth presses into a hard line, and he sighs heavily.

"If you must."

He sets me down, and, taking my hand, leads me back into the bar.

"She's on the dance floor," I touch Ichigo's arm and lean up and shout in his ear, brushing his hair with my nose, smelling his clean, fresh smell. _Oh my. _All those forbid den, unfamiliar feelings that I have tried to deny surface and run amok through my drained body. I flush, and somewhere deep, deep down my muscles clench deliciously.

He rolls his eyes at me and takes my hand again and leads me to the bar. He's served immediately, no waiting for Mr. Control-Freak Kurosaki. Does everything come so easily to him? I can't hear what he orders. He hands me a very large glass of iced water.

"Drink," he shouts his order at me.

He's watching me intently. I take a tentative sip.

"All of it," he shouts.

He's so overbearing. He runs his hand through his spiky unruly hair. He looks frustrated, angry. What is his problem? I sway slightly, and he puts his hand on my shoulder to steady me. I do as I'm told and drink the entire glass.

He takes my hand once more. _Holy cow _– he's leading me onto the dance floor. Shit. I do not dance. He gives my hand a sharp tug, and I'm in his arms again, and he starts to move, taking me with him.

He moves us through the crowded throng of dancers to the other side of the dance floor, and we are beside Rukia and Renji, Ichigo's brother. I gasp. _Rukia is making her moves. _She's dancing her ass off, and she only ever does that if she likes someone. Really likes someone. It means there'll be three of us for breakfast tomorrow morning. _Rukia! _

Ichigo leans over and shouts in Renji's ear. I cannot hear what he says. Renji is tall with wide shoulders, long red hair, and dark, wickedly gleaming eyes. Renji grins, and pulls Rukia into his arms, where she is more than happy to be… _Rukia! _Even in my inebriated state, I am shocked. She's only just met him. She nods at whatever Renji says and grins at me and waves. Ichigo propels us off the dance floor in double quick time.

I never got to talk to her. Is she okay? My thoughts crash through my brain, fighting the drunk, fuzzy feeling. It's so warm in here, so loud, so colorful – too bright. My head begins to swim, oh no… and I can feel the floor coming up to meet my face or so it feels. The last thing I hear before I pass out in Ichigo Kurosaki's arms is his harsh epithet.

"Fuck!"

* * *

Okay mob fans just to let you know that I will leave my front door open for you tonight. lol I know it looks like I'm pushing the chapters out fast but to be honest I had already written up to chapter 3 before I posted chapter 1. I know I am so cruel. Bwa-ha-ha! Chapters 5 and 6 will be posted next week. Please leave a review to let me know to keep going and your thoughts. Gwen-chan out!


	5. Chapter 5

**Title**: 50 Shades of Kurosaki

**WARNINGS**: This story is for mature individuals _**NOT FOR ANYONE UNDERAGE**_. I do not write to corrupt young curious children. If you are underage leave this story NOW! Now that's out of the way. This story is OOC and AU (sorry). This is also a kinky love story.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing! Tite Kubo owns the rights for bleach and E. L. James owns 50 Shades Trilogy.

**A/N:** _Hello everyone_ _and thank you for the reviews. I still like to personally thank SourxApples and Captain Levi, you guys are the best. Please check out their stories. _

* * *

It's very quiet. The light is muted. I am comfortable and warm, in this bed. Hmm… I open my eyes, and for a moment, I'm tranquil and serene, enjoying the strange unfamiliar surroundings. I have no idea where I am. The room is large and airy and plushy furnished in browns and gold's and beige.

I have seen it before. Where? My befuddled brain struggles through its recent visual memories. Holy crap. I'm in The Tsuma Hotel… in a suite. I have stood in a room similar to this with Rukia. This looks bigger. Oh shit. I'm in Ichigo Kurosaki's suite. How did I get here?

Fractured memories of the previous night come slowly back to haunt me. The drink ing, _oh no the drinking, _the phone call, _oh no the phone call, _the vomiting, _oh no the vomit ing. _Uryū and then Ichigo. _Oh no. _I cringe inwardly. I don't remember coming here. I'm wearing my t-shirt, bra, and panties. No socks. No jeans.

I glance at the bedside table. On it is a glass of orange juice and two tablets. Advil. Control freak that he is, he thinks of everything. I sit up and take the tablets. There's a knock on the door. My heart leaps into my mouth, and I can't seem to find my voice. He opens the door anyway and strolls in.

Holy hell, he's been working out. He's in gray sweat pants that hang, in that way, off his hips and an orange tank top, which is dark with sweat, like his hair.

"Good morning Orihime. How are you feeling?"

_Oh no._

"Better than I deserve," I mumble.

I peek up at him. He places a large shopping bag on a chair and grasps each end of the towel that he has around his neck. He's staring at me, chocolate eyes dark, and as usual, I have no idea what he's thinking. He hides his thoughts and feelings so well.

"How did I get here?" My voice is small, contrite.

He comes and sits down on the edge of the bed. He's close enough for me to touch, for me to smell. Oh my… sweat and body wash and Ichigo, it's a heady cocktail - so much better than a margarita, and now I can speak from experience.

"After you passed out, I didn't want to risk the leather upholstery in my car taking you all the way to your apartment. So I brought you here," he says.

"Did you put me to bed?"

"Yes." His face is impassive.

"Did you undress me?" I whisper.

"Yes." He quirks an eyebrow at me as I blush furiously.

"We didn't," I whisper, my mouth drying in mortified horror as I can't complete the question. I stare at my hands.

"Orihime, you were comatose. Necrophilia is not my thing. I like my women sentient and receptive," he says dryly.

"I'm so sorry."

His mouth lifts slightly in a wry smile.

"It was a very diverting evening. Not one that I'll forget in a while."

Me neither – oh he's laughing at me, the bastard. I didn't ask him to come and get me.

"You didn't have to track me down with whatever James Bond stuff you're developing for the highest bidder," I snap at him. He stares at me, surprised, and if I'm not mistaken, a little wounded.

"Firstly, the technology to track cell phones is available over the Internet. Secondly, my company does not invest or manufacture any kind of surveillance devices, and thirdly, if I hadn't come to get you, you'd probably be waking up in the photographer's bed, and from what I can remember, you weren't overly enthused about him pressing his suit," he says acidly.

I glance up at Ichigo; he's glaring at me, his chocolate eyes blazing. I try to bite my lip, but I fail to repress my laughter.

"Which medieval chronicle did you escape from?" I giggle. "You sound like a courtly knight."

His mood visibly shifts. His eyes soften and his expression warms, and I see a trace of a smile on his beautifully chiseled lips.

"Orihime, I don't think so. Dark knight maybe." His smile is sardonic, and he shakes his head. "Did you eat last night?" His tone is accusatory. I shake my head. His jaw clenches, but his face remains impassive.

"You need to eat. That's why you were so ill. Honestly Orihime, its drinking rule number one." He runs this hand through his hair, and I know it's because he's exasperated.

"Are you going to continue to scold me?"

"Is that what I'm doing?"

"I think so."

"You're lucky I'm just scolding you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if you were mine, you wouldn't be able to sit down for a week after the stunt you pulled yesterday. You didn't eat, you got drunk, and you put yourself at risk." He closes his eyes, dread etched on his lovely face, and he shudders slightly. When he opens his eyes, he glares at me. "I hate to think what could have happened to you."

I scowl back at him. What is his problem? What's it to him? If I was his… _well I'm not. _Though maybe, part of me would like to be. The thought pierces through the irritation I feel at his high-handed words.

"I would have been fine. I was with Rukia."

"And the photographer?" he snaps at me.

_Hmm… young Uryū. _I'll need to face him at some point.

"Uryū just got out of line." I shrug.

"Well the next time he gets out of line, maybe someone should teach him some man ners."

"You are quite the disciplinarian," I hiss at him.

"Oh, Orihime, you have no idea." His eyes narrow, and then he grins wickedly. It's disarming. One minute, I'm confused and angry, the next I'm gazing at his gorgeous smile. _Wow_… I am entranced, and it's because his smile is so rare. I quite forget what he's talk ing about.

"I'm going to have a shower. Unless you'd like to shower first?" He cocks his head to one side, still grinning. My heartbeat picked up. His grin widens, and he reaches over and runs his thumb down my cheek and across my lower lip.

"Breathe, Orihime," he whispers and rises. "Breakfast will be here in fifteen minutes." He heads into the bathroom and closes the door.

I let out the breath that I've been holding. Why is he so damned attractive? Right now I want to go and join him in the shower. I have never felt this way about anyone. My hormones are racing. My skin tingles where his thumb traced over my face and lower lip. I feel like squirming with a needy, achy… discomfort. I don't understand this reaction. _Hmm… Desire. _This is desire. This is what it feels like.

I lie back on the soft feather filled pillows. _'If you were mine.' _Oh my – what would I do to be his? He's the only man who has ever set my blood racing around my body.

Yet, he's so antagonizing too; he's difficult, complicated, and confusing. One minute he rebuffs me, the next he sends me books, then he tracks me like a stalker. And for all that, I have spent the night in his hotel suite, and I feel safe. Protected. He cares enough to come and rescue me from some mistakenly perceived danger. He's not a dark knight at all, but a white knight in shining, dazzling armor – a classic romantic hero.

I scramble out of his bed frantically searching for my jeans. He emerges from the bath room wet and glistening from the shower, still unshaven, with just a towel around his waist, and there am I – all bare legs and awkward gawkiness. He's surprised to see me out of bed.

"If you're looking for your jeans, I've sent them to the laundry." His gaze is dark. "They were spattered with your vomit."

"Oh." I flush scarlet.

"I sent Chad out for another pair and some shoes. They're in the bag on the chair."

_Clean clothes. _What an unexpected bonus.

"Um… I'll have a shower," I mutter. "Thanks." What else can I say? I grab the bag and dart into the bathroom away from the unnerving proximity of naked Ichigo.

In the bathroom, it's all hot and steamy from where he's been showering. I strip off my clothes and quickly clamber into the shower anxious to be under the cleansing stream of water. It cascades over me, and I hold up my face into the welcoming torrent. I want Ichigo Kurosaki. I want him badly. Simple fact. For the first time in my life, I want to go to bed with a man. I want to feel his hands and his mouth on me.

He said he likes his women. _He's probably not celibate then. _But he's not made a pass at me, unlike Keigo or Uryū. I don't understand. Does he want me? He wouldn't kiss me last week. Am I repellent to him? And yet, I'm here and he brought me here. I just don't know what his game is? What he's thinking? _You've slept in his bed all night, and he's not touched you Orihime. You do the math. _

The water is warm and soothing. _Hmm_… I could stay under this shower, in his bath room, forever.

"Breakfast is here." He knocks on the door, startling me.

"Okay," I stutter.

I climb out of the shower and grab two towels.

I inspect the bag of jeans. Not only has Chad brought me jeans and new shoes, but a pale blue shirt, socks, and underwear. Oh my. A clean bra and panties. They are an exquisite design of some fancy European lingerie. All pale blue lace and finery. Wow. I am in awe and slightly daunted by this underwear. . What's more, they fit perfectly. But of course they do. I flush to think of the man in some lingerie store buying this for me. I wonder what else is in his job description.

I dress quickly. The rest of the clothing is a perfect fit. I towel-dry my hair and try desperately to bring it under control.

Time to face Mr. Confusing.

I'm relieved to find the bedroom empty.

Taking another deep breath, I enter the living area of the suite. It's huge. Ichigo is sitting at a dining table on the other side of the room reading a newspaper. It's the size of a tennis court or something, not that I play tennis, though I have watched Rukia a few times. _Rukia!_

"Crap, Rukia," I croak. Ichigo peers up at me.

"She knows you're here and still alive. I texted Renji," he says with just a trace of humor.

_Oh no. _I remember her fervent dancing of the night before. All her patented moves used with maximum effect to seduce Ichigo's brother no less! What's she going to think about me being here? I've never stayed out before.

She's still with Renji. She's only done this twice before, and both times I've had to endure the hideous pink chappy bunny PJs for a week from the fallout. She's going to think I've had a one-night stand too.

Ichigo stares at me imperiously. He's wearing a white linen shirt, collar and cuffs undone.

"Sit," he commands, pointing to a place at the table. I make my way across the room and sit down opposite him as I've been directed. The table is laden with food.

"I didn't know what you liked, so I ordered a selection from the breakfast menu." He gives me a crooked, apologetic smile.

"That's very kind of you," I murmur, bewildered by the choice, though I am hungry.

"Yes, it is." He sounds guilty.

I opt for pancakes, maple syrup, scrambled eggs, and bacon. Ichigo tries to hide a smile as he returns to his egg white omelet. The food is delicious.

"Tea?" he asks.

"Yes, please."

He passes me a small teapot of hot water. Jeez, he remembers how I like tea.

"Thank you for organizing the clothes."

"It's a pleasure, Orihime. That color suits you."

I blush and stare down at my fingers.

"You know, you really should learn to take a compliment." His tone is castigating.

"I should give you some money for these clothes."

He glares at me as if I have offended him on some level.

"Orihime, trust me, I can afford it."

"That's not the point. Why should you buy these for me?"

"Because I can," his eyes flash with a wicked gleam.

"Just because you can doesn't mean that you should," I reply quietly as he arches an eyebrow at me, his eyes twinkling, and suddenly I feel that we're talking about something else, but I don't know what it is. Which reminds me…

"Why did you send me the books, Ichigo?" My voice is soft. He puts down his fork and regards me intently, his chocolate eyes burning with some unfathomable emotion. Holy crap – my mouth dries.

"Well, when you were nearly run over by the cyclist – and I was holding you and you were looking up at me – all kiss me, kiss me, Ichigo," he pauses and shrugs slightly, "I felt I owed you an apology and a warning." He runs his hand through his hair.

"Orihime, I'm not a hearts and flowers kind of man, I don't do romance. My tastes are very singular. You should steer clear from me." He closes his eyes as if in defeat. "There's something about you, though, and I'm finding it impossible to stay away. But I think you've figured that out already."

My appetite vanishes. _He can't stay away!_

"Then don't," I whisper.

He gasps his eyes wide.

"You don't know what you're saying."

"Enlighten me, then."

We sit gazing at each other, neither of us touching our food.

"You're not celibate then?" I breathe.

Amusement lights up his chocolate eyes.

"No, Orihime, I'm not celibate." He pauses for this information to sink in, and I flush scarlet. The mouth-to-brain filter is broken again. I can't believe I've just said that out loud.

"What are your plans for the next few days?" he asks his voice low.

"I'm working today, from midday. What is the time?" I panic suddenly.

"It's just after ten, you've plenty of time. What about tomorrow?" He has his elbows on the table, and his chin is resting on his long fingers.

"Rukia and I are going to start packing. We're moving to Tokyo next weekend, and I'm working at Asano's all this week."

"You have a place in Tokyo already?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"I can't remember the address. It's in the Owna Market District."

"Not far from me," his lips twitch up in a half smile. "So what are you going to do for work in Tokyo?"

Where is he going with all these questions? The Ichigo Kurosaki Inquisition is almost as irritating as the Rukia Kuchiki Inquisition.

"I've applied for some internships. I'm waiting to hear."

"Have you applied to my company as I suggested?"

I flush… _of course not._

"Um… no."

"And what's wrong with my company?"

"Your company or your Company?" I smirk.

He smiles slightly.

"Are you smirking at me, Miss Inoue?" He cocks his head to one side, and I think he looks amused, but it's hard to tell. I flush and glance down at my unfinished breakfast. I can't look him in the eye when he uses that tone of voice.

"I'd like to bite that lip," he whispers darkly.

_Oh my. _I am completely unaware that I am chewing my bottom lip. My mouth pops open as I gasp and swallow at the same time. That has to be the sexiest thing anybody has ever said to me. My heart beat spikes, and I think I'm panting. Jeez, I'm a quivering, moist mess, and he hasn't even touched me. I squirm in my seat and meet his dark glare.

"Why don't you?" I challenge quietly.

"Because I'm not going to touch you Orihime - not until I have your written consent to do so." His lips hint at a smile.

_What?_

"What does that mean?"

"Exactly what I say." He sighs and shakes his head at me, amused, but exasperated too. "I need to show you, Orihime. What time do you finish work this evening?"

"About eight."

"Well, we could go to Tokyo this evening or next Saturday for dinner at my place, and I'll acquaint you with the facts then. The choice is yours."

"Why can't you tell me now?" I ask.

"Because I'm enjoying my breakfast and your company. Once you're enlightened, you probably won't want to see me again."

_Holy shit. _What does that mean? Is he part of some underworld crime? It would ex plain why he's so rich. Surely not, he could prove that to me right now. _Oh my. _I flush scarlet thinking about the possibilities.

This is getting me nowhere. I'd like to solve the riddle that is Ichigo Kurosaki sooner rather than later. If it means that whatever secret he has is so gross that I don't want to know him any more then, quite frankly, it will be a relief. _Don't lie to yourself – my subconscious yells at me– it'll have to be pretty bloody bad to have you running for the hills._

"Tonight."

He raises an eyebrow.

"Like Eve, you're so quick to eat from the tree of knowledge," he smirks.

"Are you smirking at me, Mr. Kurosaki?" I ask sweetly. _Pompous ass._

He narrows his eyes at me and picks up his BlackBerry. He presses one number.

"Chad. I'm going to need Charlie Tango."

_Charlie Tango! Who's he?_

"From Karakura at say twenty-thirty... No, standby at Toka… All night."

_All night!_

"Yes. On call tomorrow morning. I'll pilot from Karakura to Tokyo."

_Pilot?_

"Standby pilot from twenty-two-thirty." He puts the phone down. No please or thank you.

"Do people always do what you tell them?"

"Usually, if they want to keep their jobs," he says, deadpan.

"And if they don't work for you?"

"Oh, I can be very persuasive, Orihime. You should finish your breakfast. And then I'll drop you home. I'll pick you up at Asano's at eight when you finish. We'll fly up to Tokyo."

I blink at him rapidly.

"Fly?"

"Yes. I have a helicopter."

I gape at him. I have my second date with Ichigo oh-so-mysterious Kurosaki. From coffee to helicopter rides. Wow.

"We'll go by helicopter to Tokyo?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

He grins wickedly.

"Because I can. Finish your breakfast."

How can I eat now? I'm going to Tokyo by helicopter with Ichigo Kurosaki. And he wants to bite my lip… I squirm at the thought.

"Eat," he says more sharply. "Orihime, I have an issue with wasted food… eat."

"I can't eat all this." I gape at what's left on the table.

"Eat what's on your plate. If you'd eaten properly yesterday, you wouldn't be here, and I wouldn't be declaring my hand so soon." His mouth sets in a grim line. He looks angry.

I frown and return to my now cold food. _I'm too excited to eat, Ichigo. Don't you understand? _My subconscious explains. But I'm too much of a coward to voice these thoughts aloud, especially when he looks so sullen. _Hmm, _like a small boy. I find the thought amusing.

"What's so funny?" he asks. I shake my head, not daring tell him and keep my eyes on my food. Swallowing my last piece of pancake, I peek up at him. He's eying me speculatively.

I head back to his bedroom. A thought stops me.

"Where did you sleep last night?" I turn to gaze at him still sitting in the dining room chair. I can't see any blankets or sheets out here – perhaps he's had them tidied away.

"In my bed," he says simply, his gaze impassive again.

"Oh."

"Yes, it was quite a novelty for me too." He smiles.

"Not having… sex." There – I said the word. I blush – of course.

"No," he shakes his head and frowns as if recalling something uncomfortable. "Sleeping with someone." He picks up his newspaper and continues to read.

What in heaven's name does that mean? He's never slept with anyone? He's a virgin? Somehow I doubt that. I stand staring at him in disbelief. He is the most mystifying person I've ever met. And it dawns on me that I have slept with Ichigo Kurosaki, and I kick myself – what would I have given to be conscious to watch him sleep. See him vulnerable. Somehow, I find that hard to imagine. Well, allegedly all will be revealed tonight.

I head into the bathroom. I want to clean my teeth. I eye Ichigo's toothbrush. It would be like having him in my mouth. _Hmm_… Glancing guiltily over my shoulder at the door, I feel the bristles on the toothbrush. They are damp. He must have used it already. Grabbing it quickly, I squirt toothpaste on it and brush my teeth in double quick time. I feel so naughty. It's such a thrill.

Grabbing my t-shirt, bra, and panties from yesterday, I put them in the shopping bag that Chad brought and head back to the living area to hunt for my bag and jacket. Ichigo is watching me as I tie my hair into a ponytail, his expression unreadable. I feel his eyes follow me as I sit down and wait for him to finish. He's on his BlackBerry talking to someone.

He hangs up.

"Ready to go?"

I nod. I wonder what his conversation was about. He slips on a navy pinstriped jacket, picks up his car keys, and heads for the door.

"After you, Miss Inoue," he murmurs, opening the door for me. He looks so casually elegant.

I pause, fractionally too long, drinking in the sight of him. And to think I slept with him last night and, after all the tequila and the throwing up, he's still here. What's more, he wants to take me to Tokyo. Why me? I don't understand it. I head out the door recalling his words – _There's something about you _– Well the feeling is entirely mutual Mr. Kurosaki, and I aim to find out what it is.

We walk in silence down the corridor toward the elevator. As we wait, I peek up at him through my lashes, and he looks out of the corner of his eyes down at me. I smile, and his lips twitch.

The elevator arrives, and we step in. We're alone. Suddenly, for some inexplicable reason, possibly our proximity in such an enclosed space, the atmosphere between us changes, charging with an electric, exhilarating anticipation. My breathing alters as my heart races. His head turns fractionally toward me, his eyes darkest slate. I bite my lip.

"Oh, fuck the paperwork," he growls. He lunges at me, pushing me against the wall of the elevator.

Before I know it, he's got both of my hands in one of his in a vice-like grip above my head, and he's pinning me to the wall using his hips. His other hand grabs my ponytail and yanks down, bringing my face up, and his lips are on mine. I moan into his mouth, giving his tongue an opening.

He takes full advantage, his tongue expertly exploring my mouth. I have never been kissed like this. My tongue tentatively strokes his and joins his in a slow erotic dance that's all about touch and sensation, all bump and grind.

He brings his hand up to grasp my chin and holds me in place. I am helpless, my hands pinned, my face held, and his hips restraining me. I feel his erection against my belly. _Oh my_… He wants me. Ichigo Kurosaki, Greek god, wants me, and I want _him, _here… now, in the elevator.

"You. Are. So. Sweet," he murmurs each word a staccato.

The elevator stops, the doors open, and he pushes away from me in the blink of an eye, leaving me hanging. Three men in business suits look at both of us and smirk as they climb on board. My heart rate is through the roof, I feel like I've run an uphill race. I want to lean over and grasp my knees… but that's just too obvious.

I glance up at him. He looks so cool and calm. _How unfair. _Is he totally unaffected by my presence? He glances at me out of the corner of his eye, and he gently blows out a deep breath. Oh, he's affected all right. The businessmen exit on the second floor. We have one more floor to travel.

"You've brushed your teeth," he says, staring at me.

"I used your toothbrush," I breathe.

His lips quirk up in a half smile.

"Oh, Orihime Inoue, what am I going to do with you?"

The doors open at the first floor, and he takes my hand and pulls me out.

"What is it about elevators?" he mutters, more to himself than to me as he strides across the lobby. I struggle to keep pace with him because my wits have been thoroughly, royally, scattered all over the floor and walls of elevator three in The Tsuma Hotel.

* * *

**_Okay people Chapter 6 will be up tomorrow. The truth will be reveled…..trust me you guys have been waiting for this. Gwen-chan out!  
_**


	6. Chapter 6

**Title**: 50 Shades of Kurosaki

**WARNINGS**: This story is for mature individuals _**NOT FOR ANYONE UNDERAGE**_. I do not write to corrupt young curious children. If you are underage leave this story NOW! Now that's out of the way. This story is OOC and AU (sorry). This is also a kinky love story.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing! Tite Kubo owns the rights for bleach and E. L. James owns 50 Shades Trilogy.

**A/N:** _Hello everyone_ _and thank you for the reviews. I still like to personally thank SourxApples and Captain Levi, you guys are the best. Please check out their stories. Okay this chapter is super long like 3 chapters in one so it's an early Christmas Gift. This is where the shit gets real and Apples master said "we aim to please"…..enjoy!_

* * *

Ichigo opens the passenger door to the black Audi SUV, and I climb in. He hasn't mentioned the outburst of passion that exploded in the elevator. Should I? It hardly seems real, my first proper no-holds-barred kiss. I am a changed woman. I want this man, desperately, and he wanted me.

I glance at him. Ichigo is his usual polite, slightly distant self.

How confusing.

He starts the engine and reverses out of his space in the parking lot. He switches on the MP3 player. The car interior is filled with the sweetest, most magical music of two women singing. Oh wow… all my senses are in disarray, so this is doubly affecting. It sends delicious shivers up my spine.

"Ichigo, it's wonderful."

"It is, isn't it?" he grins, glancing at me. And for a fleeting moment, he seems his age; young, carefree, and heart-stopping beautiful. Is this the key to him? Music? I sit and listen to the angelic voices, teasing and seducing me.

"You like classical music?" I ask, hoping for a rare insight into his personal preferences.

"My taste is eclectic, Orihime. You?"

"Me too."

He turns and gazes at me briefly before his eyes are back on the road.

He presses a button, and the Kings of Leon start singing. Hmm… this I know. Sex on Fire. How appropriate. The music is interrupted by the sound of a cell phone ringing over the MP3 speakers. Ichigo hits a button on the steering wheel.

"Kurosaki," he snaps.

"Mr. Kurosaki, it's Tessai here. I have the information you require." A rasping, disembodied voice comes over the speakers.

"Good. Email it to me. Anything to add?"

"No sir."

He presses the button, then the call ceases and the music is back. No goodbye or thanks. I'm so glad that I never seriously entertained the thought of working for him. I shudder at the very idea. He's just too controlling and cold with his employees. The music cuts off again for the phone.

"Kurosaki."

"The NDA has been emailed to you, Mr. Kurosaki." A woman's voice.

"Good. That's all, Mashiro."

"Good day, sir."

Ichigo hangs up by pressing a button on the steering wheel. The music is on very briefly when the phone rings again. Holy hell, is this his life, constant nagging phone calls?

"Kurosaki," he snaps.

"Hi, Ichigo, d'you get laid?"

"Hello, Renji – I'm on speaker phone, and I'm not alone in the car," Ichigo sighs.

"Who's with you?"

Ichigo rolls his eyes.

"Orihime Inoue."

"Hi, Orihime!"

"Hello, Renji."

"Heard a lot about you," Renji murmurs huskily. Ichigo frowns.

"Don't believe a word Rukia says."

Renji laughs.

"I'm dropping Orihime off now."

"Shall I pick you up?"

"Sure."

"See you shortly." Ichigo hangs up, and the music is back.

* * *

We are almost at my apartment. It's not taken long.

"Orihime," he muses. I scowl at him, but he ignores my expression. "What happened in the elevator - it won't happen again, well, not unless it's premeditated."

He pulls up outside my duplex. I belatedly realize he's not asked me where I live - yet he knows. But then he sent the books, of course he knows where I live. What able, cell-phone-tracking, helicopter owning, stalker wouldn't.

Why won't he kiss me again? I pout at the thought. I don't understand. Honestly, his surname should be Cryptic, not Kurosaki. He climbs out of the car, walking with easy, long-legged grace round to my side to open the door, ever the gentleman - except perhaps in rare, precious moments in elevators.

I flush at the memory of his mouth on mine, and the thought that I'd been unable to touch him enters my mind. I wanted to run my fingers through his untidy hair, but I'd been unable to move my hands. I am frustrated.

"I liked what happened in the elevator," I murmur as I climb out of the car. I'm not sure if I hear an audible gasp, but I choose to ignore it and head up the steps to the front door.

Rukia and Renji are sitting at our dining table. She has the most un-Rukia ridiculous grin on her face, and she looks mussed up in a sexy kind of way. Ichigo follows me into the living area, and in spite of her I've-been-having-a-good-time-all-night grin, Rukia eyes him suspiciously.

"Hi Orihime." She leaps up to hug me, and then holds me at arm's length so she can examine me. She frowns and turns to Ichigo.

"Good morning, Ichigo," she says, and her tone is a little hostile.

"Miss Kuchiki," he says in his stiff formal way.

"Ichigo, her name is Rukia," Renji grumbles.

"Rukia." Ichigo gives her a polite nod and glares at Renji who grins and rises to hug me too.

"Hi, Orihime," he smiles and I like him immediately. He's obviously nothing like Ichigo, but then they're adopted brothers.

"Hi, Renji," I smile at him, and I'm aware that I'm biting my lip.

"Renji, we'd better go." Ichigo says mildly.

"Sure." He turns to Rukia and pulls her into his arms and gives her a long lingering kiss.

Jeez… get a room. I stare at my feet, embarrassed. I glance up at Ichigo, and he's watching me intently. I narrow my eyes at him. Why can't you kiss me like that? Renji continues to kiss Rukia, sweeping her off her feet and dipping her in a dramatic hold as he kisses her hard.

"Laters, baby," he grins.

Rukia just melts. I've never seen her melt before – the words comely and compliant come to mind. Compliant Rukia, boy, Renji must be good. Ichigo rolls his eyes and stares down at me, his expression unreadable, although maybe he's mildly amused.

He tucks a stray strand of my hair that has worked its way free from my ponytail behind my ear. My breath hitches at the contact, and I lean my head slightly into his fingers. His eyes soften, and he runs his thumb across my lower lip. My blood sears in my veins. And all too quickly, his touch is gone.

"Laters, baby," he murmurs, and I have to laugh because it's so unlike him. But even though I know he's being irreverent, the endearment tugs at something deep inside me.

"I'll pick you up at eight." He turns to leave, opening the front door and stepping out on to the porch. Renji follows him to the car but turns and blows Rukia another kiss, and I feel an unwelcome pang of jealousy.

"So, did you?" Rukia asks as we watch them climb into the car and drive off, the burning curiosity evident in her voice.

"No," I snap irritably, hoping that will halt the questions. We head back into the apartment. "You obviously did, though." I can't contain my envy.

"And I'm seeing him again this evening." She claps her hands and jumps up and down like a small child. She cannot contain her excitement and happiness, and I can't help but feel happy for her. A happy Rukia… this is going to be interesting.

"Ichigo is taking me to Tokyo this evening."

"Tokyo?"

"Yes."

"Maybe you will then?"

"Oh, I hope so."

"You like him then?"

"Yes."

"Like him enough to…?"

"Yes."

She raises her eyebrows.

"Wow. Orihime, finally falling for a man, and it's Ichigo Kurosaki – hot, sexy billionaire."

"Oh yeah – it's all about the money." I smirk, and we both fall into a fit of giggles.

"Is that a new blouse?" she asks, and I let her have all the unexciting details about my night.

"Has he kissed you yet?" she asks as she makes coffee.

I blush.

"Once."

"Once!" she scoffs.

I nod, rather shame faced.

"He's very reserved."

She frowns.

"That's odd."

"I don't think odd covers it really," I murmur.

"We need to make sure you're simply irresistible for this evening," she says with determination.

Oh no… this sounds like it will be time consuming, humiliating, and painful.

"I have to be at work in an hour."

"I can work with that time frame. Come on." Rukia grabs my hand and takes me into her bedroom.

* * *

The day drags at Asano's even though we're busy. We've hit the summer season, so I have to spend two hours restocking the shelves once the shop is closed. It's mindless work, and it gives me too much time to think. I've not really had a chance all day.

Under Rukia's tireless and frankly intrusive instruction, I have promised to text her when I arrive in Tokyo. I haven't told her about the helicopter, she'd freak.

I also have the Uryu issue. He's left three messages and seven missed calls on my cell. He's also called home twice. Rukia has been very vague as to where I am. He'll know she's covering for me. Rukia doesn't do vague. But I have decided to let him stew. I'm still too angry with him.

* * *

He is punctual, of course, and waiting for me when I leave Asano's. He climbs out of the back of the Audi to open the door and smiles warmly at me.

"Good evening, Miss Inoue," he says.

"Mr. Kurosaki." I nod politely to him as I climb into the backseat of the car. Chad is sitting in the driver's seat.

"Hello, Chad," I say.

"Good evening, Miss Inoue," his voice is polite and professional. Ichigo climbs in the other side and clasps my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze that I feel all the way though my body.

"How was work?" he asks.

"Very long," I reply, and my voice is husky, too low, and full of need.

"Yes, it's been a long day for me too." His tone is serious.

"What did you do?"

"I went hiking with Renji." His thumb strokes my knuckles, back and forth, and my heart skips a beat as my breathing accelerates. How does he do this to me? He's only touching a very small area of my body, and the hormones are flying.

The drive to the heliport is short and, before I know it, we arrive. I wonder where the fabled helicopter might be. We're in a built-up area of the city and even I know helicopters need space to take off and land. Chad parks, climbs out, and opens my car door. Ichigo is beside me in an instant and takes my hand again.

"Ready?" he asks. I nod and want to say for anything, but I can't articulate the words as I'm too nervous, too excited.

"Chad." He nods curtly at his driver, and we head into the building, straight to a set of elevators. Elevator! The memory of our kiss this morning comes back to haunt me. I have thought of nothing else all day. Daydreaming at the register at Asano's. Twice Mr. Asano had to shout my name to bring me back to Earth. To say I've been distracted would be the understatement of the year. Ichigo glances down at me, a slight smile on his lips. Ha! He's thinking about it too.

"It's only three floors," he says dryly, his chocolate eyes dancing with amusement. He's telepathic surely. It's spooky.

I try to keep my face impassive as we enter the elevator. The doors close, and it's there, the weird electrical attraction crackling between us, enslaving me. I close my eyes in a vain attempt to ignore it.

He tightens his grip on my hand, and five seconds later the doors open on to the roof of the building. And there it is, a white helicopter with the name Kurosaki Enterprises Holdings Inc. written in blue with the company logo on the side. Surely this is misuse of Company property.

"Let's go," Ichigo says, and we make our way toward the helicopter. When we're up close, it's much bigger than I thought. Ichigo opens the door and directs me to one of the seats at the very front.

* * *

"Look, over there." He points to a small pin-point of light in the far distance. "That's Tokyo."

"Do you always impress women this way? Come and fly in my helicopter?" I ask, genuinely interested.

"I've never bought a girl up here, Orihime. It's another first for me." His voice is quiet, serious.

Oh, that was an unexpected answer. Another first? Oh the sleeping thing, perhaps?

"Are you impressed?"

"I'm awed, Ichigo."

He smiles.

"Awed?" And for a brief moment, he's his age again.

I nod.

We ride into the dark night in silence for a while.

Tokyo is getting closer. We are on the very outskirts now. Wow! It looks absolutely stunning. Tokyo at night, from the sky…

"Looks good, doesn't it?" Ichigo murmurs.

I nod enthusiastically.

"We'll be there in a few minutes," Ichigo mutters, and suddenly my blood is pounding in my ears as my heartbeat accelerates and adrenaline spikes through my system. He starts talking to air traffic control again, but I am no longer listening. Oh my… I think I'm going to faint. My fate is in his hands.

We are now flying amongst the buildings, and up ahead I can see a tall skyscraper with a helipad on top. The word Toka is painted in white on top of the building. It's getting nearer and nearer, bigger and bigger… like my anxiety.

God, I hope I don't let him down. He'll find me lacking in some way. I wish I'd listened to Rukia and borrowed one of her dresses, but I like my black jeans, and I'm wearing a soft mint green shirt and Rukia's black jacket.

I look smart enough. I grip the edge of my seat tighter and tighter. I can do this. I can do this. I chant this mantra as the skyscraper looms below us.

The helicopter slows and hovers, and Ichigo sets it down on the helipad on top of the building. My heart is in my mouth. I can't decide if it's from nervous anticipation, relief that we've arrived alive, or fear that I will fail in some way.

He switches the ignition off and the rotor blades slow and quiet until all I hear is the sound of my own erratic breathing. Ichigo takes his headphones off, and reaches across and pulls mine off too.

"We're here," he says softly.

His look is so intense, half in shadow and half in the bright white light from the landing lights. Dark knight and white knight, it's a fitting metaphor for Ichigo. He looks strained. His jaw is clenched and his eyes are tight. He unfastens his seatbelt and reaches over to unbuckle mine. His face is inches from mine.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. You know that don't you?" His tone is so earnest, desperate even, his chocolate eyes impassioned. He takes me by surprise.

"I'd never do anything I didn't want to do, Ichigo." And as I say the words, I don't quite feel their conviction because at this moment in time – I'd probably do anything for this man seated beside me. But this does the trick.

He eyes me warily for a moment and somehow, even though he's so tall, he manages to ease his way gracefully to the door of the helicopter and open it. He jumps out, waiting for me to follow, and takes my hand as I clamber down on to the helipad.

It's very windy on top of the building, and I'm nervous about the fact that I'm standing at least thirty stories high in an unenclosed space. Ichigo wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me tightly against him.

"Come," he shouts above the noise of the wind. He drags me over to an elevator shaft and, after tapping a number into a keypad, the doors open. It's warm inside and all mirrored glass.

Moments later, we're in an all-white foyer. In the middle is a round, dark wood table, and on it is an unbelievably huge bunch of white flowers. He opens two double doors, and the white theme continues through the wide corridor and directly opposite where a palatial room opens up. It's the main living area, double height. Huge is too small a word for it.

To the right is an imposing 'U' shaped sofa that could sit ten adults comfortably. It faces a state-of-the-art stainless steel – or maybe platinum for all I know - modern fireplace. The fire is lit and flaming gently. On the left beside us, by the entryway, is the kitchen area. All white with dark wood worktops and a large breakfast bar which seats six.

Near the kitchen area, in front of the glass wall, is a dining table surrounded by sixteen chairs. And tucked in the corner is a full size, shiny black grand piano. Oh yes… he probably plays the piano too. There is art of all shapes and sizes on all the walls. In fact, this apartment looks more like a gallery than a place to live.

"Can I take your jacket?" Ichigo asks. I shake my head. I'm still cold from the wind on the helipad.

"Would you like a drink?" he asks. I blink at him. After last night! Is he trying to be funny? For one second, I think about asking for a margarita – but I don't have the nerve.

"I'm going to have a glass of white wine, would you like to join me?"

"Yes, please," I murmur.

Ichigo is opening a bottle of wine. He's removed his jacket.

"Pouilly Fumé okay with you?"

"I know nothing about wine, Ichigo. I'm sure it will be fine." My voice is soft and hesitant. My heart is thumping. I want to run. This is seriously rich. Seriously over-the-top Bill Gates style wealthy. What am I doing here? You know very well what you're doing here - Yes, I want to be in Ichigo Kurosaki's bed.

"Here." He hands me a glass of wine. Even the glasses are rich… heavy, contemporary, crystal. I take a sip, and the wine is light, crisp, and delicious.

"You're very quiet, and you're not even blushing. In fact – I think this is the palest I've ever seen you, Orihime," he murmurs. "Are you hungry?"

I shake my head. Not for food.

"It's a very big place you have here."

"Big?"

"Big."

"It's big," he agrees, and his eyes glow with amusement. I take another sip of wine.

"Do you play?" I point my chin at the piano.

"Yes."

"Well?"

"Yes."

"Of course you do. Is there anything you can't do well?"

"Yes… a few things." He takes a sip of his wine. He doesn't take his eyes off me. I feel them following me as I turn and glance around this vast room. Room is the wrong word. It's not a room – it's a mission statement.

"Do you want to sit?"

I nod, and he takes my hand and leads me to the large off-white couch. As I sit, I'm struck by the fact that I feel like Tess Durbeyfield looking at the new house that belongs to the notorious Alec D'Urberville. The thought makes me smile.

"What's so amusing?" He sits down beside me, turning to face me. He rests his head on his right hand, his elbow propped on the back of the couch.

"Why did you give me Tess of the D'Urbervilles specifically?" I ask. Ichigo stares at me for a moment. I think he's surprised by my question.

"Well, you said you liked Thomas Hardy."

"Is that the only reason?" Even I can hear the disappointment in my voice. His mouth presses into a hard line.

"It seemed appropriate. I could hold you to some impossibly high ideal like Angel Clare or debase you completely like Alec D'Urberville," he murmurs, and his chocolate eyes flash dark and dangerous.

"If there are only two choices, I'll take the debasement." I whisper, gazing at him. He gasps.

"Orihime, stop biting your lip, please. It's very distracting. You don't know what you're saying."

"That's why I'm here."

He frowns.

"Yes. Would you excuse me a moment?" He disappears through a wide doorway on the far side of the room. He's gone for a couple of minutes and returns with a document.

"This is a non-disclosure agreement." He shrugs and has the grace to look a little embarrassed. "My lawyer insists on it." He hands it to me. I'm completely bemused. "If you're going for option two, debasement, you'll need to sign this."

"And if I don't want to sign anything?"

"Then it's Angel Clare high ideals, well, for most of the book anyway."

"What does this agreement mean?"

"It means you cannot disclose anything about us. Anything, to anyone."

I stare at him in disbelief. Holy shit. It's bad, really bad, and now I'm very curious to know.

"Okay. I'll sign."

He hands me a pen.

"Aren't you even going to read it?"

"No."

He frowns.

"Orihime, you should always read anything you sign," he admonishes me.

"Ichigo, what you fail to understand is that I wouldn't talk about us to anyone, anyway. Even Rukia. So it's immaterial whether I sign an agreement or not. If it means so much to you, or your lawyer… whom you obviously talk to, then fine. I'll sign."

He gazes down at me, and he nods gravely.

"Fair point well made, Miss Inoue."

I lavishly sign on the dotted line of both copies and hand one back to him. Folding the other, I place it my purse and take a large swig of my wine. I'm sounding so much braver than I'm actually feeling.

"Does this mean you're going to make love to me tonight, Ichigo?" Holy shit. Did I just say that? His mouth drops open slightly, but he recovers quickly.

"No, Orihime it doesn't. Firstly, I don't make love. I fuck… hard. Secondly, there's a lot more paperwork to do, and thirdly, you don't yet know what you're in for. You could still run for the hills. Come, I want to show you my playroom."

My mouth drops open. Fuck hard! Holy shit, that sounds so… hot. But why are we looking at a playroom? I am mystified.

"You want to play on your Xbox?" I ask. He laughs, loudly.

"No, Orihime, no Xbox, no PlayStation. Come." He stands, holding out his hand. I let him lead me back out to the corridor. On the right of the double doors, where we came in, another door leads to a staircase.

We go up to the second floor and turn right. Producing a key from his pocket, he unlocks yet another door and takes a deep breath.

"You can leave anytime. The helicopter is on stand-by to take you whenever you want to go, you can stay the night and go home in the morning. It's fine whatever you decide."

"Just open the damn door, Ichigo."

He opens the door and stands back to let me in. I gaze at him once more. I so want to know what's in here. Taking a deep breath I walk in.

And it feels like I've time-traveled back to the sixteenth century and the Spanish Inquisition.

Holy fuck.

* * *

The first thing I notice is the smell; leather, wood, polish with a faint citrus scent. It's very pleasant, and the lighting is soft, subtle. The walls and ceiling are a deep, dark burgundy, giving a womb-like effect to the spacious room, and the floor is old, old varnished wood. There is a large wooden cross like an X fastened to the wall facing the door.

It's made of high-polished mahogany, and there are restraining cuffs on each corner. By the door, two long, polished, ornately carved poles, like spindles from a banister but longer, hang like curtain rods across the wall. From them swing a startling assortment of paddles, whips, riding crops, and funny-looking feathery implements.

Beside the door stands a substantial mahogany chest of drawers, each drawer slim as if designed to contain specimens in a crusty old museum. I wonder briefly what the drawers actually do hold. Do I want to know? In the far corner is an oxblood leather padded bench. There's a stout six-foot-long table in the opposite corner – polished wood with intricately carved legs – and two matching stools underneath.

But what dominates the room is a bed. It's bigger than king-size, an ornately carved four-poster with a flat top. It looks late nineteenth century. Under the canopy, I can see more gleaming chains and cuffs. There is no bedding... just a mattress covered in red leather and red satin cushions piled at one end.

Weirdly, all the wood, dark walls, moody lighting, and oxblood leather makes the room kind of soft and romantic… I know it's anything but; this is Ichigo's version of soft and romantic.

I turn, and he's regarding me intently as I knew he would be, his expression completely unreadable. I walk further into the room, and he follows me. The feathery thing has me intrigued. I touch it hesitantly. It's suede, like a small cat-of-nine-tails but bushier, and there are very small plastic beads on the end.

"It's called a flogger," Ichigo's voice is quiet and soft.

A flogger… hmm. I think I'm in shock. I am numb. I can observe and absorb but not articulate my feelings about all this, because I'm in shock. What is the appropriate response to finding out a potential lover is a complete freaky sadist or masochist? Fear… yes… that seems to be the over-riding feeling.

I recognize it now. But weirdly not of him – I don't think he'd hurt me, well, not without my consent. So many questions cloud my mind. Why? How? When? How often? Who? I walk toward the bed and run my hands down one of the intricately carved posts.

"Say something," Ichigo commands, his voice deceptively soft.

"Do you do this to people or do they do it to you?"

His mouth quirks up, either amused or relieved.

"People?" He blinks a couple of times as he considers his answer. "I do this to women who want me to."

I don't understand.

"If you have willing volunteers, why am I here?"

"Because I want to do this with you, very much."

"Oh," I gasp. Why?

I wander to the far corner of the room and pat the waist high padded bench and run my fingers over the leather.

"You're a sadist?"

"I'm a Dominant." His eyes are a scorching black, intense.

"What does that mean?" I whisper.

"It means I want you to willingly surrender yourself to me, in all things."

I frown at him as I try to assimilate this idea.

"Why would I do that?"

"To please me," he whispers as he cocks his head to one side, and I see a ghost of a smile.

Please him! He wants me to please him! I think my mouth drops open. Please Ichigo Kurosaki. And I realize, in that moment, that yes, that's exactly what I want to do. I want him to be damned delighted with me. It's a revelation.

"In very simple terms, I want you to want to please me," he says softly. His voice is hypnotic and his eyes lighten back to chocolate.

"How do I do that?" My mouth is dry, and I wish I had more wine. Okay, I understand the pleasing bit, but do I want to know the answer?

"I have rules, and I want you to comply with them. They are for your benefit and for my pleasure. If you follow these rules to my satisfaction, I shall reward you. If you don't, I shall punish you, and you will learn," he whispers. "And where does all this fit in?" I wave my hand in the general direction of the room.

"It's all part of the incentive package. Both reward and punishment."

"So you'll get your kicks by exerting your will over me."

I will gain a great deal of pleasure, joy, even in your submission. The more you submit, the greater my joy – it's a very simple equation."

"Okay, and what do I get out of this?"

He shrugs and looks almost apologetic.

"Me," he says simply.

Oh my. Ichigo rakes his hand through his hair as he gazes at me.

"You're not giving anything away, Orihime," he murmurs, exasperated. "Let's go back downstairs where I can concentrate better. It's very distracting having you in here." He holds his hand out to me, and now I'm hesitant to take it.

Rukia had said he was dangerous, she was so right. How did she know? He's dangerous to my health, because I know I'm going to say yes.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Orihime." His chocolate eyes implore, and I know he speaks the truth. I take his hand, and he leads me out of the door.

"If you do this, let me show you." Rather than going back downstairs, he turns right out of the playroom, as he calls it, and down a corridor. We pass several doors until we reach the one at the end. Beyond it is a bedroom with a large double bed, all in white… everything, furniture, walls, bedding.

"This will be your room. You can decorate it how you like, have whatever you like in here."

"My room? You're expecting me to move in?" I can't hide the horror in my voice.

"Not full time. Just say, Friday evening through Sunday. We have to talk about all that and negotiate. If you want to do this," he adds his voice quiet and hesitant.

"I'll sleep here?"

"Yes."

"Not with you."

"No. I told you, I don't sleep with anyone, except you, when you're stupefied with drink." His eyes are reprimanding.

My mouth presses in a hard line. This is what I cannot reconcile. Kind, caring Ichigo, who rescues me from inebriation and holds me gently while I'm throwing up into the azaleas, and the monster that possesses whips and chains in a special room.

"Where do you sleep?"

"My room is downstairs.

"I'm fully aware that this is a dark path I'm leading you down, Orihime, which is why I really want you to think about this. You must have some questions," he says as he wanders into the kitchen area, releasing my hand.

I do. But where to start?

"You've signed your NDA, you can ask me anything you want, and I'll answer."

I stand at the breakfast bar watching him as he opens the refrigerator and pulls out a plate of different cheeses with two large bunches of green and red grapes.

"You mentioned paperwork."

"Yes."

"What paperwork?"

"Well, apart from the NDA, a contract saying what we will and won't do. I need to know your limits, and you need to know mine. This is consensual, Orihime."

"And if I don't want to do this?"

"That's fine," he says carefully.

"But we won't have any sort of relationship?" I ask.

"No."

"Why?"

"This is the only sort of relationship I'm interesting in."

"Why?"

He shrugs.

"It's the way I am."

"How did you become this way?"

"Why is anyone the way they are? That's kind of hard to answer. Why do some people like cheese and other people hate it? Do you like cheese? Mrs. Arisawa – my housekeeper – has left this for supper." He takes some large, white plates from a cupboard and places one in front of me.

We're talking about cheese… Holy crap.

"What are your rules that I have to follow?"

"I have them written down. We'll go through them once we've eaten."

Food. How can I eat now?

"I'm really not hungry," I whisper.

"Would you like another glass of wine?"

"Yes, please."

He pours wine into my glass and comes to sit beside me. I take a hasty sip.

"Help yourself to food, Orihime."

I take a small bunch of grapes. This I can manage. He narrows his eyes.

"Have you been like this for a while?" I ask.

"Yes."

"Is it easy to find women who want to do this?"

He raises an eyebrow at me.

"You'd be amazed," he says dryly.

"Then why me? I really don't understand."

"Orihime, I've told you. There's something about you. I can't leave you alone." He smiles ironically. "I'm like a moth to a flame." His voice darkens. "I want you very badly, especially now, when you're biting your lip again." He takes a deep breath and swallows.

My stomach somersaults – he wants me… in a weird way, true, but this beautiful, strange, kinky man wants me.

"I think you have that cliché the wrong way round." I grumble. I am the moth and he is the flame, and I'm going to get burnt. I know.

"Eat!"

"No. I haven't signed anything yet, so I think I'll hang on to my free will for a bit longer, if that's okay with you."

His eyes soften, and his lips turn up in a smile.

"As you wish, Miss Inoue."

"How many women?" I blurt out the question, but I'm so curious.

"Fifteen."

Oh… not as many as I thought.

"For long periods of time?"

"Some of them, yes."

"Have you ever hurt anyone?"

"Yes."

Holy shit.

"Badly?"

"No."

"Will you hurt me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Physically, will you hurt me?"

"No!."

I think I feel a little faint. I take another sip of wine. Alcohol - this will make me brave.

"Have you ever been beaten?" I ask.

"Yes."

Oh… that surprises me. Before I can question him on this revelation further, he interrupts my train of thought.

"Let's discuss this in my study. I want to show you something."

This is so hard to process. Here I was foolishly thinking that I'd spend a night of unparalleled passion in this man's bed, and we're negotiating this weird arrangement.

I follow him into his study, a spacious room with another floor-to-ceiling window that opens out on to the balcony. He sits on the desk, motions for me to sit on a leather chair in front of him, and hands me a piece of paper.

"These are the rules. They may be subject to change. They form part of the contract, which you can also have. Read these rules and let's discuss."

* * *

RULES

Obedience:

The Submissive will obey any instructions given by the Dominant immediately without hesitation or reservation and in an expeditious manner. The Submissive will agree to any sexual activity deemed fit and pleasurable by the Dominant excepting those activities which are outlined in hard limits (Appendix 2). She will do so eagerly and without hesitation.

Sleep:

The Submissive will ensure she achieves a minimum of seven hours sleep a night when she is not with the Dominant.

Food:

The Submissive will eat regularly to maintain her health and wellbeing from a prescribed list of foods (Appendix 4). The Submissive will not snack between meals, with the exception of fruit.

Clothes:

During the Term, the Submissive will wear clothing only approved by the Dominant. The Dominant will provide a clothing budget for the Submissive, which the Submissive shall utilize. The Dominant shall accompany the Submissive to purchase clothing on an ad hoc basis. If the Dominant so requires, the Submissive shall during the Term any adornments the Dominant shall require, in the presence of the Dominant and any other time the Dominant deems fit.

Exercise:

The Dominant shall provide the Submissive with a personal trainer four times a week in hour-long sessions at times to be mutually agreed between the personal trainer and the Submissive. The personal trainer will report to the Dominant on the Submissive's progress.

Personal Hygiene/Beauty:

The Submissive will keep herself clean and shaved and/or waxed at all times. The Submissive will visit a beauty salon of the Dominant's choosing at times to be decided by the Dominant, and undergo whatever treatments the Dominant sees fit.

Personal Safety:

The Submissive will not drink to excess, smoke, take recreational drugs, or put herself in any unnecessary danger.

Personal Qualities:

The Submissive will not enter into any sexual relations with anyone other than the Dominant. The Submissive will conduct herself in a respectful and modest manner at all times. She must recognize that her behavior is a direct reflection on the Dominant. She shall be held accountable for any misdeeds, wrongdoings, and misbehavior committed when not in the presence of the Dominant.

Failure to comply with any of the above will result in immediate punishment, the nature of which shall be determined by the Dominant.

* * *

Holy fuck.

"Hard limits?" I ask.

"Yes. What you won't do, what I won't do, we need to specify in our agreement."

"I'm not sure about accepting money for clothes. It feels wrong." I shift uncomfortably.

"I want to lavish money on you, let me buy you some clothes. I may need you to accompany me to functions, and I want you dressed well. I'm sure your salary, when you do get a job, won't cover the kind of clothes I'd like you to wear."

"I don't have to wear them when I'm not with you?"

"No."

"Okay." Think of them as uniform.

"I don't want to exercise four times a week."

"Orihime, I need you supple, strong, and with stamina. Trust me, you need to exercise."

"But surely not four times a week, how about three?"

"I want you to do four."

"I thought this was a negotiation?"

He purses his lips at me.

"Okay, Miss Inoue, another point well made. How about an hour on three days and one day half an hour?"

"Three days, three hours. I get the impression you're going to keep me exercised when I'm here."

He smiles wickedly, and his eyes glow dark as if relieved. "Yes, I am. Okay, agreed. Are you sure you don't want to intern at my company? You're a good negotiator."

"No, I don't think that's a good idea." I stare down at his rules.

"So, limits. These are mine." He hands me another piece of paper.

* * *

Hard Limits

No acts involving fire play

No acts involving urination or defecation and the products thereof

No acts involving needles, knives, piercing, or blood

No acts involving gynecological medical instruments

No acts involving children or animals

No acts that will leave any permanent marks on the skin

No acts involving breath control

* * *

Ugh. He has to write these down! Of course – they all look very sensible, and frankly, necessary… any sane person wouldn't want to be involved in this sort of thing surely? Though I now feel a little queasy.

"Is there anything you'd like to add?" he asks kindly.

Crap. I've no idea. I am completely stumped. He gazes at me and furrows his brow.

"Is there anything you won't do?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

I squirm uncomfortably and bite my lip.

"I've never done anything like this."

"Well, when you've had sex, was there anything that you didn't like doing?"

For the first time in what seems to be ages, I blush.

"You can tell me, Orihime. We have to be honest with each other or this isn't going to work."

I squirm uncomfortably again and stare at my knotted fingers.

"Tell me," he commands.

"Well… I've not had sex before, so I don't know." My voice is small. I peek up at him, and he's staring at me, mouth-open, frozen, and pale - really pale.

"Never?" he whispers. I shake my head.

"You're a virgin?" he breathes. I nod, flushing again. He closes his eyes and looks to be counting to ten. When he opens them again, he's angry, glaring at me.

"Why the fuck didn't you tell me?" he growls.

Ichigo is running both his hands through his hair and pacing up and down his study. Two hands – that's double exasperation. His usual concrete control seems to have slipped a notch.

"I don't understand why you didn't tell me," he castigates me.

"The subject never came up. I'm not in the habit of revealing my sexual status to everyone I meet. I mean, we hardly know each other." I'm staring at my hands. Why am I feeling guilty? Why is he so mad? I peek up at him.

"Well, you know a lot more about me now," he snaps, his mouth presses into a hard line. "I knew you were inexperienced, but a virgin!" He says it like it's a really dirty word. "Hell, Orihime, I just showed you," he groans. "May God forgive me. Have you ever been kissed, apart from by me?"

"Of course I have." I try my best to look affronted. Okay… maybe twice.

"And a nice young man hasn't swept you off your feet? I just don't understand. You're twenty-one, nearly twenty-two. You're beautiful." He runs his hand through his hair again.

Beautiful. I flush with pleasure. Ichigo Kurosaki thinks I'm beautiful. I knot my fingers together, staring at them hard, trying to conceal my goofy grin.

"And you're seriously discussing what I want to do, when you have no experience." His brows knit together. "How have you avoided sex? Tell me, please."

I shrug.

"No one's really, you know." Come up to scratch, only you.

"Why are you so angry with me?" I whisper.

"I'm not angry with you, I'm angry with myself. I just assumed… " He sighs. He regards me shrewdly and then shakes his head. "Do you want to go?" he asks his voice gentle.

"No, unless you want me to go," I murmur. Oh no… I don't want to leave.

"Of course not. I like having you here." He frowns as he says this and then glances at his watch. "It's late." And he turns to look at me. "You're biting your lip." His voice is husky, and he's eyeing me speculatively.

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize. It's just that I want to bite it too, hard."

I gasp… how can he say things like that to me and not expect me to be affected.

"Come," he murmurs."

"What?"

"We're going to rectify the situation right now."

"What do you mean? What situation?"

"Your situation. Orihime, I'm going to make love to you, now."

"Oh." The floor has fallen away. I'm a situation. I'm holding my breath.

"That's if you want to, I mean, I don't want to push my luck."

"I thought you didn't make love. I thought you fucked hard." I swallow my mouth suddenly dry.

He gives me a wicked grin, the effects of which travel all the way down there.

"I can make an exception, or maybe combine the two, we'll see. I really want to make love to you. Please, come to bed with me. I want our arrangement to work, but you really need to have some idea what you're getting yourself into.

We can start your training tonight – with the basics. This doesn't mean I've come over all hearts and flowers, it's a means to an end, but one that I want, and hopefully you do too." His chocolate gaze is intense.

I flush… oh my… wishes do come true.

"But I haven't done all the things you require from your list of rules." My voice is all breathy, hesitant.

"Forget about the rules. Forget about all those details for tonight. I want you. I've wanted you since you fell into my office, and I know you want me. You wouldn't be sitting here calmly discussing punishment and hard limits if you didn't. Please, Orihime, spend the night with me."

He holds his hand out to me, his eyes are bright, fervent… excited, and I put my hand in his. He pulls me up and into his arms so I can feel the length of his body against mine, this swift action taking me by surprise.

He runs his fingers round the nape of my neck, winds my ponytail around his wrist, and gently pulls so I'm forced to look up at him. He gazes down at me.

"You are one brave young woman," he whispers. "I am in awe of you."

His words are like some kind of incendiary device; my blood flames. He leans down and kisses my lips gently, and he sucks at my lower lip.

"I want to bite this lip," he murmurs against my mouth, and carefully he tugs at it with his teeth. I moan, and he smiles.

"Please Orihime; let me make love to you."

"Yes," I whisper, because that's why I'm here. His smile is triumphant as he releases me and takes my hand and leads me through the apartment.

His bedroom is vast. The enormous bed is ultra-modern, made of rough wood, like driftwood, four posts, but no canopy.

This is it. Finally, after all this time, I'm going to do it, with none other than Ichigo Kurosaki. My breath is shallow, and I can't take my eyes off him. He removes his watch and places it on top of a chest of drawers that matches the bed, and removes his jacket, placing it on a chair. He's dressed in his white linen shirt and jeans.

He is heart-stopping beautiful. His orange hair is a mess, his shirt hanging out – his dark chocolate eyes bold and dazzling. He steps out of his shoes and reaches down and takes his socks off individually. Ichigo Kurosaki's feet… wow… what is it about naked feet? Turning, he gazes at me, his expression soft.

"I assume you're not on the pill."

What! Shit.

"I didn't think so." He opens the top drawer of the chest and removes a packet of condoms. He gazes at me intently.

"Be prepared," he murmurs

"I thought you didn't let anyone sleep in your bed."

"Who says we're going to sleep?" he murmurs softly.

"Oh." Holy hell.

He strolls slowly toward me. Confident, sexy, eyes blazing, and my heart begins to pound. My blood's pumping around my body. Desire, thick and hot, pools in my belly. He stands in front of me, staring down into my eyes. He's so freaking hot.

"Let's get this jacket off, shall we?" he says softly, and takes hold of the lapels and gently slides my jacket off my shoulders. He places it on the chair.

"Do you have any idea how much I want you, Orihime Inoue?" he whispers. My breath hitches. I cannot take my eyes off his. He reaches up and gently runs his fingers down my cheek to my chin.

"Do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you?" he adds, caressing my chin.

The muscles inside the deepest, darkest part of me clench in the most delicious fashion. The pain is so sweet and sharp I want to close my eyes, but I'm hypnotized by his dark eyes staring fervently into mine.

Leaning down, he kisses me. His lips are demanding, firm and slow, molding mine. He starts unbuttoning my shirt while he places feather-like kisses across my jaw, my chin, and the corners of my mouth.

Slowly he peels it off me and lets it fall to the floor. He stands back and gazes at me. I'm in the pale blue lacy perfect-fit bra. Thank heavens.

"Oh, Orihime," he breathes. "You have the most beautiful skin, pale and flawless. I want to kiss every single inch of it."

I flush. Oh my… Why did he say he couldn't make love? I will do anything he wants. He grasps my hair tie, pulls it free, and gasps as my hair cascades down around my shoulders.

Both of his hands are in my hair, grasping each side of my head. His kiss is demanding, his tongue and lips coaxing mine. I moan, and my tongue tentatively meets his. He puts his arms around me and hauls me against his body, squeezing me tightly.

One hand remains in my hair, the other travels down my spine to my waist and down to my behind. His hand flexes over my backside and squeezes gently. He holds me against his hips, and I feel his erection, which he languidly pushes into me.

I moan once more into his mouth. I can hardly contain the riotous feelings or is it hormones that rampage through my body. I want him so badly. Gripping his upper arms, I feel his biceps, he's surprisingly strong… muscular.

Tentatively, I move my hands up to his face and into his hair. Holy Moses. It's so soft, unruly. I tug gently, and he groans. He eases me toward the bed, until I feel it behind my knees. I think he's going to push me down on to it, but he doesn't. Releasing me, he suddenly drops to his knees.

He grabs my hips with both his hands and runs his tongue around my navel, then gently nips his way to my hipbone, then across my belly to my other hipbone.

"Ah," I groan.

Seeing him on his knees in front of me, feeling his mouth on me, it's so unexpected, and hot. My hands stay in his hair, pulling gently as I try to quiet my too-loud breathing. He gazes up at me through impossibly long lashes, his eyes a scorching smoky dark chocolate. His hands reach up and undo the button on my jeans, and he leisurely pulls down the zipper.

Without taking his eyes off mine, his hands move beneath the waistband, skimming me and moving to my behind. His hands glide slowly down my backside to my thighs, removing my jeans as they go. I cannot look away. He stops and licks his lips, never breaking eye contact. He leans forward, running his nose up the apex between my thighs. I feel him. There.

"You smell so good," he murmurs and closes his dark eyes, a look of pure pleasure on his face, and I practically convulse. He reaches up and tugs the duvet off the bed, then pushes me gently so I fall on to the mattress.

Still kneeling, he grasps my foot and undoes my shoes and socks. I raise myself up on my elbows to see what he's doing. I'm panting… wanting. He lifts my foot by the heel and runs his thumbnail up my instep. It's almost painful, but I feel the movement echoed in my groin. I gasp.

Not taking his eyes off mine, again he runs his tongue along my instep and then his teeth. Shit. I groan… how can I feel this, there. I fall back on to the bed, moaning. I hear his soft chuckle.

"Oh, Orihime, what I could do to you," he whispers. He removes my jeans. I'm lying on his bed dressed only in my bra and panties, and he's staring down at me.

"You're very beautiful, Orihime Inoue. I can't wait to be inside you."

Holy shit. His words. He's so seductive. He takes my breath away.

"Show me how you pleasure yourself."

What? I frown.

"Don't be coy, Orihime, show me," he whispers.

I shake my head.

"I don't know what you mean." My voice is hoarse. I hardly recognize it, laced with desire.

"How do you make yourself come? I want to see."

I shake my head.

"I don't," I mumble. He raises his eyebrows, astonished for a moment, and his eyes darken, and he shakes his head in disbelief.

"Well, we'll have to see what we can do about that." His voice is soft, challenging, a delicious sensual threat. He undoes the buttons of his jeans and slowly pulls his jeans down, his eyes on mine the whole time.

He leans down over me and, grasping each of my ankles, quickly jerks my legs apart and crawls onto the bed between my legs. He hovers over me. I am squirming with need.

"Keep still," he murmurs, and then he leans down and kisses the inside of my thigh, trailing kisses up, over the thin lacy material of my panties, kissing me.

Oh… I can't keep still. How can I not move? I wriggle beneath him.

"We're going to have to work on keeping you still, baby." He trails kisses up my belly, and his tongue dips into my navel. Still he's heading north, kissing me across my torso. My skin is burning.

I'm flushed, too hot, too cold, and I'm clawing at the sheet beneath me. He lays down beside me and his hand trails up from my hip, to my waist, and up to my breast. He gazes down at me, his expression unreadable, and gently cups my breast.

"You fit my hand perfectly, Orihime," he murmurs and dips his index finger into the cup of my bra and gently yanks it down freeing my breast. My breasts swell, and my nipples harden under his steady gaze. I am trussed-up by my own bra.

"Very nice," he whispers appreciatively, and my nipples harden even more.

He blows very gently on one as his hand moves to my other breast, and his thumb slowly rolls the end of my nipple, elongating it. I groan, feeling the sweet sensation all the way to my groin.

I am so wet. Oh please, I beg internally as my fingers clasp the sheet tighter. His lips close around my other nipple and he tugs, I nearly convulse.

"Let's see if we can make you come like this," he whispers, continuing his slow, sensual assault. My nipples bear the delicious brunt of his deft fingers and lips, setting alight every single nerve ending in my body so that my whole body sings with the sweet agony. He just doesn't stop.

"Oh… please," I beg, and I pull my head back, my mouth open as I groan, my legs stiffening. Holy hell, what's happening to me?

"Let go, baby," he murmurs. His teeth close round my nipple, and his thumb and finger pull hard, and I fall apart in his hands, my body convulsing and shattering into a thousand pieces. He kisses me, deeply, his tongue in my mouth absorbing my cries.

Oh my. That was extraordinary. Now I know what all the fuss is about. He gazes down at me, a satisfied smile on his face, while I'm sure there's nothing but gratitude and awe on mine.

"You are very responsive," he breathes. "You're going to have to learn to control that, and it's going to be so much fun teaching you how." He kisses me again.

My breathing is still ragged as I come down from my orgasm. His hand moves down my waist, to my hips, and then cups me, intimately... Jeez. His finger slips through the fine lace and slowly circles around me – there. Briefly he closes his eyes, and his breathing hitches.

"You're so deliciously wet. God, I want you." He thrusts his finger inside me, and I cry out as he does it again and again. He palms my clitoris, and I cry out once more. He pushes inside me harder and harder still. I groan.

Suddenly, he sits up and tugs my panties off and throws them on the floor. Pulling off his boxer briefs, his erection springs free. Holy cow… He reaches over to his bedside table and grabs a foil packet, and then he moves between my legs, spreading them further apart. He kneels up and pulls a condom on to his considerable length. Oh no…Will it? How?

"Don't worry," he breathes his eyes on mine, "You expand too." He leans down, his hands on either side of my head, so he's hovering over me, staring down into my eyes, his jaw clenched, eyes burning. It's only now that I register he's still wearing his shirt.

"You really want to do this?" he asks softly.

"Please," I beg.

"Pull your knees up," he orders softly, and I'm quick to obey. "I'm going to fuck you now, Miss Inoue," he murmurs as he positions the head of his erection at the entrance of my sex. "Hard," he whispers, and he slams into me.

"Aargh!" I cry as I feel a weird pinching sensation deep inside me as he rips through my virginity. He stills, gazing down at me, his eyes bright with ecstatic triumph.

His mouth is open slightly, and his breathing is harsh. He groans.

"You're so tight. You okay?"

I nod my eyes wide, my hands on his forearms. I feel so full. He stays still, letting me acclimatize to the intrusive, overwhelming feeling of him inside me.

"I'm going to move, baby," he breathes after a moment, his voice tight.

Oh.

He eases back with exquisite slowness. And he closes his eyes and groans, and thrusts into me again. I cry out a second time, and he stills.

"More?" he whispers, his voice raw.

"Yes," I breathe. He does it once more, and stills again.

I groan. My body accepting him… Oh, I want this.

"Again?" he breathes.

"Yes." It's a plea.

And he moves, but this time he doesn't stop. He shifts onto his elbows so I can feel his weight on me, holding me down. He moves slowly at first, easing himself in and out of me. And as I grow accustomed to the alien feeling, my hips move tentatively to meet his.

He speeds up. I moan, and he pounds on, picking up speed, merciless, a relentless rhythm, and I keep up, meeting his thrusts. He grasps my head between his hands and kisses me hard, his teeth pulling at my lower lip again. He shifts slightly, and I can feel something building deep inside me, like before. I start to stiffen as he thrusts on and on.

My body quivers, bows, a sheen of sweat gathers over me. Oh my… I didn't know it would feel like this… didn't know it could feel as good as this. My thoughts are scattering... there's only sensation... only him... only me… oh please… I stiffen.

"Come for me, Orihime," he whispers breathlessly, and I unravel at his words, exploding around him as I climax and splinter into a million pieces underneath him. And as he comes, he calls out my name, thrusting hard, then stilling as he empties himself into me.

I am still panting, trying to slow my breathing, my thumping heart, and my thoughts are in riotous disarray. Wow… that was astounding. I open my eyes, and he has his forehead pressed against mine, his eyes closed, his breathing ragged.

Ichigo's eyes flicker open and gaze down at me, dark but soft. He's still inside me. Leaning down, he gently presses a kiss against my forehead then slowly pulls out of me.

"Ooh." I wince at the unfamiliarity.

"Did I hurt you?" Ichigo asks as he lies down beside me propped on one elbow. He tucks a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. And I have to grin, widely.

"You are asking me if you hurt me?"

"The irony is not lost on me," he smiles sardonically. "Seriously, are you okay?" His eyes are intense, probing, demanding even.

I stretch out beside him, feeling loose-limbed, my bones like jelly, but I'm relaxed, deeply relaxed. I grin at him. I can't stop grinning. Now I know what all the fuss is about.

Two orgasms… coming apart at the seams, like the spin cycle on a washing machine, wow. I had no idea what my body was capable of, could be wound so tightly and released so violently, so gratifyingly. The pleasure was indescribable.

"You're biting your lip, and you haven't answered me." He's frowning. I grin up at him. He looks glorious with his tousled hair, burning narrowed chocolate eyes, and serious, dark expression.

"I'd like to do that again," I whisper. For a moment, I think I see a fleeting look of relief on his face, before the shutters come down, and he gazes at me through hooded eyes.

"Would you now, Miss Inoue?" he murmurs dryly. He leans down and kisses me very gently at the corner of my mouth. "Demanding little thing aren't you. Turn on your front."

I blink at him momentarily, and then I turn over. He unhooks my bra and runs his hand down my back to my behind.

"You really have the most beautiful skin," he murmurs. He shifts so that one of his legs pushes between mine, and he's half lying across my back. I can feel the buttons of his shirt pressing into me as he gathers my hair off my face and kisses my bare shoulder.

"Why are you wearing your shirt?" I ask. He stills. After a beat, he shuffles out of his shirt, and he lies back down on me. I feel his warm skin against mine. Hmm… it feels heavenly. He has a light dusting of hair across his chest, which tickles my back.

"So you want me to fuck you?" he whispers in my ear, and he begins to trail feather light kisses around my ear and down my neck.

His hand moves down, skimming my waist, over my hip, and down my thigh to the back of my knee. He pushes my knee up higher, and my breath hitches… oh my, what's he doing now?

He shifts so he's between my legs, pressed against my back, and his hand travels up my thigh to my behind. He caresses my cheek slowly, and then trails his fingers down between my legs.

"I'm going to take you from behind, Orihime," he murmurs, and with his other hand, he grasps my hair at the nape in a fist and pulls gently, holding me in place. I cannot move my head. I am pinioned beneath him, helpless.

"You are mine," he whispers. "Only mine. Don't forget it." His voice is intoxicating, his words heady, seductive. I feel his growing erection against my thigh.

His long fingers reach round to gently massage my clitoris, circling slowly. His breath is soft against my face as he slowly nips me along my jaw.

"You smell divine," he nuzzles behind my ear. His hand rubs against me, round and round. Reflexively, my hips start to circle, mirroring his hand, as excruciating pleasure spikes through my blood like adrenaline.

"Keep still," he orders, his voice soft but urgent, and slowly he inserts his thumb inside me, rotating it round and round, stroking the front wall of my vagina. The effect is mind-blowing – all my energy concentrating on this one small space inside my body. I moan.

"You like this?" he asks softly, his teeth grazing my outer ear, and he starts to flex his thumb slowly, in, out, in, out… his fingers still circling.

I close my eyes, trying to keep my breathing under control, trying to absorb the disordered, chaotic sensations that his fingers are unleashing on me, fire coursing through my body. I moan again.

"You're so wet, so quickly. So responsive. Oh, Orihime, I like that. I like that a lot," he whispers.

I want to stiffen my legs, but I can't move. He's pinning me down, keeping up a constant, slow, tortuous rhythm. It's absolutely exquisite. I moan again, and he moves suddenly.

"Open your mouth," he commands and thrusts his thumb in my mouth. My eyes fly open, blinking wildly.

"See how you taste," he breathes against my ear. "Suck me, baby." His thumb presses on my tongue, and my mouth closes round him, sucking wildly. Holy fuck. This is wrong, but holy hell is it erotic.

"I want to fuck your mouth, Orihime, and I will soon," his voice is hoarse, raw, his breathing more disjointed.

Fuck my mouth! I moan, and I bite down on him. He gasps, and he pulls my hair tighter, painfully, so I release him.

"Naughty, sweet girl," he whispers, and then reaches over to the bedside table for a foil packet. "Stay still, don't move," he orders as he releases my hair.

He rips the foil while I'm breathing hard, my blood singing in my veins. The anticipation is exhilarating. He leans down, his weight on me again, and he grabs my hair holding my head immobile. I cannot move.

I'm enticingly ensnared by him, and he's poised and ready to take me once more.

"We're going to go real, slow this time, Orihime," he breathes.

And slowly he eases into me, slowly, slowly, until he's buried in me. Stretching, filling, relentless. I groan loudly. It feels deeper this time, delectable. I groan again, and he deliberately circles his hips and pulls back, pauses a beat, and then eases his way back in.

He repeats this motion again and again. It's driving me insane – his teasing, deliberately slow thrusts, and the intermittent feeling of fullness is overwhelming.

"You feel so good," he groans, and my insides start to quiver. He pulls back and waits. "Oh no, baby, not yet," he murmurs, and as the quivering ceases, he starts the whole delicious process again.

"Oh, please," I beg. I'm not sure I can take much more. My body is wound so tight, craving release.

"I want you sore, baby," he murmurs, and he continues his sweet, leisurely torment, backward, forward.

"Every time you move tomorrow, I want you to be reminded that I've been here. Only me. You are mine."

I groan.

"Please, Ichigo," I whisper.

"What do you want, Orihime? Tell me."

I groan again. He pulls out and moves slowly back into me, circling his hips once more.

"Tell me," he murmurs.

"You, please."

He increases the rhythm infinitesimally, and his breathing becomes more erratic. My insides start quickening, and Ichigo picks up the rhythm.

"You. Are. So. Sweet," he murmurs between each thrust. "I. Want. You. So. Much."

I moan.

"You. Are. Mine. Come for me, baby," he growls.

His words are my undoing, tipping me over the precipice. My body convulses around him, and I come, loudly calling out a garbled version of his name into the mattress, and Ichigo follows with two sharp thrusts, and he freezes, pouring himself into me as he finds his release.

He collapses on top of me, his face in my hair.

"Fuck. Orihime," he breathes. He pulls out of me immediately and rolls onto his side of the bed. I pull my knees up to my chest, utterly spent, and immediately drift off or pass out into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

_**I know I know I'm such a naughty girl. You liked it so leave a review and tell me about it. I have a feeling that Shiro might be coming out sometime I was hoping you could start to see it. Don't worry you will get to meet the family. Until next time… Gwen-chan out!**_


	7. Chapter 7

**Title**: 50 Shades of Kurosaki

**WARNINGS**: This story is for mature individuals _**NOT FOR ANYONE UNDERAGE**_. I do not write to corrupt young curious children. If you are underage leave this story NOW! Now that's out of the way. This story is OOC and AU (sorry). This is also a kinky love story.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing! Tite Kubo owns the rights for bleach and E. L. James owns 50 Shades Trilogy.

**A/N:** _Hello everyone_ _and thank you for the reviews. I really like getting reviews, comments or questions. Some of you guys are totally cracking me up. I sorry for the computer I destroyed lol. I still like to personally thank SourxApples and Captain Levi, you guys are the best. Please check out their stories. Enjoy!_

* * *

When I wake, it's still dark. Ichigo is nowhere to be seen. I hear the music. The lilting notes of the piano, a sad, sweet lament.

I wrap the duvet round me and quietly pad down the corridor toward the big room. Ichigo is at the piano, completely lost in the music he's playing. His expression is sad and forlorn, like the music. His playing is stunning.

Leaning against the wall at the en trance, I listen. He's such an accomplished musician. He sits naked, his body bathed in the warm light cast by a solitary freestanding lamp beside the piano. With the rest of the large room in darkness, it's like he's in his own isolated little pool of light, untouch able… lonely, in a bubble.

I pad quietly toward him, enticed by the sublime, melancholy music. I'm mesmerized watching his long skilled fingers as they find and gently press the keys, thinking how those same fingers have expertly handled and caressed my body. I flush and gasp at the memory and press my thighs together. He glances up, his unfathomable chocolate eyes bright, his expression unreadable.

"Sorry," I whisper. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

A frown flits across his face.

"Surely, I should be saying that to you," he murmurs. He finishes playing and puts his hands on his legs.

I notice now that he's wearing PJ pants. He runs his fingers through his hair and stands. His pants hang from his hips, in that way… _oh my. _My mouth goes dry as he casually strolls around the piano toward me. He has broad shoulders, narrow hips, and his abdominal muscles ripple as he walks. He really is stunning.

"You should be in bed," he admonishes.

"That was a beautiful piece.

"It was exquisite, but very sad, such a melancholy melody."

His lips quirk up in a half smile.

"Bed," he orders. "You'll be exhausted in the morning."

"I woke and you weren't there."

"I find it difficult to sleep, and I'm not used to sleeping with anyone," he murmurs. I can't fathom his mood. He seems a little despondent, but it's difficult to tell in the dark ness. Perhaps it was the tone of the piece he was playing. He puts his arm around me and gently walks me back to the bedroom.

"How long have you been playing? You play beautifully."

"Since I was six."

"Oh." Ichigo as a six-year-old boy… my mind conjures an image of a beautiful, orange-haired little boy with chocolate eyes and my heart melts – a kid who likes impossibly sad music.

"How are you feeling?" he asks when we are back in the room. He switches on a sidelight.

"I'm good."

We both glance down at the bed at the same time. There's blood on the sheets – evidence of my lost virginity. I flush, embarrassed, pulling the duvet tighter around me.

"Well, that's going to give Mrs. Arisawa something to think about," Ichigo mutters as he stands in front of me. He puts his hand under my chin and tips my head back, staring down at me.

His eyes are intense as he examines my face. I realize that I've not seen his naked chest before. Instinctively, I reach out to run my fingers through the hair on his chest to see how it feels. Immediately, he steps back out of my reach.

"Get into bed," he says sharply. "I'll come and lie down with you." His voice softens. I drop my hand and frown. I don't think I've ever touched his torso. He opens a chest of drawers and pulls out a t-shirt and quickly slips it on.

"Bed," he orders again. I climb back onto the bed. He clambers in beside me and pulls me into his embrace, wrapping his arms around me so that I'm facing away from him. He kisses my hair gently, and he inhales deeply.

"Sleep, sweet Orihime," he murmurs, and I close my eyes, but I can't help but feel that Ichigo Kurosaki has a sad side.

Light fills the room, coaxing me from deep sleep to wakefulness. I stretch out and open my eyes. It's a beautiful May morning. Beside me, Ichigo Kurosaki is fast asleep. I'm surprised he's still in bed. He's facing me, and I have an unprecedented opportunity to study him. His lovely face looks younger, relaxed in sleep.

His sculptured, pouty lips are parted slightly, and his shiny, clean hair is a glorious mess. How could anyone look this good and still be legal? I re member his room upstairs… perhaps he's not legal.

I shake my head, so much to think about. It's tempting to reach out and touch him, but like a small child, he's so lovely when he's asleep.

I don't have to worry about what I'm saying, what he's saying, what plans he has, especially his plans for me.

I could gaze at him all day, but I have needs – bathroom needs. Slipping out of bed, I find his white shirt on the floor and shrug it on. I walk through a door thinking that it might be the bathroom, but I'm in a vast walk-in closet as big as my bedroom. Actually, Rukia's wardrobe probably rivals this. Rukia! _Oh no._

I didn't think about her all evening. I was supposed to text her. Crap. I'm going to be in trouble. I wonder briefly how she's getting on with Renji.

Returning to the bedroom, Ichigo is still asleep. I try the other door. It's the bath room, and it's bigger than my bedroom. Why does one man need so much space? Two sinks, I notice with irony. Given he doesn't sleep with anyone, one of them can't have been used.

I stare at myself in the gigantic mirror above the sinks. Do I look different? I feel different. So you've just slept with him, given him your virginity, a man who doesn't love you. In fact, he has very odd ideas about you, wants to make you some sort of kinky sex slave.

_ARE YOU CRAZY? _

I wince as I look in the mirror. I am going to have to process all this. Honestly, fancy falling for a man who's beyond beautiful, richer than Croesus, and has a Red Room of Pain waiting for me. I shudder. I'm bewildered and confused.

My hair is its usual wayward self. Just-fucked hair doesn't suit me. I try and bring order to the chaos with my fingers but fail miserably and give up – maybe I'll find hair ties in my purse.

I'm starving. I head back out to the bedroom. Sleeping beauty is still sleeping, so I leave him and head for the kitchen.

_Oh no… Rukia. _I left my purse in Ichigo's study. I fetch it and reach for my cell phone. Three texts.

***RU OK Orihime***

***Where RU Orihime***

***Damn it Orihime***

I call Rukia. When she doesn't answer, I leave her a groveling message to tell her I am_. _Oh this is so confusing. I have to try and categorize my feelings for Ichigo Kurosaki. It's an impossible task. I shake my head in defeat. I need alone time, away from here to think.

I find two welcome hair ties at the same time in my bag and quickly tie my hair in pig tails. Yes! The more girly I look; perhaps the safer I'll be from Ichigo. I take my iPod out of the bag and plug my headphones in. There's nothing like music to cook by. I slip it into the breast pocket of Ichigo's shirt, turn it up loud, and start dancing.

Holy hell, I'm hungry.

I am daunted by his kitchen. It's so sleek and modern and none of the cupboards have handles. Perhaps I should cook Ichigo breakfast. I check in the fridge, where there are plenty of eggs, and decide I want pancakes and bacon. I set about making some batter, dancing my way round the kitchen.

Being busy is good. It allows a bit of time to think but not too deeply. I came here to spend the night in Ichigo Kurosaki's bed, and managed it, even though he doesn't let anyone in his bed.

I smile, mission accomplished. Big time. I grin. Big, big time, and I'm distracted by the memory of last night. His words, his body, his lovemaking… I close my eyes as my body hums at the recollection, and my muscles contract deliciously deep in my belly. I shake my head to concentrate on the task at hand.

I have an indecent proposal to consider from King Misfit himself. Why is he this way? Nature or Nurture? It's so alien to anything I know.

I put the bacon under the grill, and while it's cooking, I whisk some eggs. I turn, and Ichigo is sitting on one of the bar stools at the breakfast bar, leaning on it, his face sup ported by his steepled hands. He's still wearing the t-shirt he's slept in. Just-fucked hair re ally, really suits him, as does his designer stubble.

He looks both amused and bewildered. I freeze, flush, then gather myself and pull the headphones out of my ears, my knees weak at the sight of him.

"Good morning, Miss Inoue. You're very energetic this morning," he says dryly.

"I slept well," I stutter my explanation. His lips try to mask his smile.

"I can't imagine why." He pauses and frowns. "So did I, after I came back to bed."

"Are you hungry?"

"Very," he says with an intense look, and I don't think he's referring to food.

"Pancakes, bacon, and eggs?"

"Sounds great."

"I don't know where you keep your placemats." I shrug, trying desperately hard not to look flustered.

"I'll do that. You cook. Would you like me to put some music on so you can continue your… err… dancing?"

I stare down at my fingers, knowing that I am turning red.

"Please, don't stop on my account. It's very entertaining." His tone is one of wry amusement.

I purse my lips. Entertaining eh? I turn and continue to whisk the eggs, probably beating them a little harder than they need. In a moment, he's beside me. He gently pulls my pigtail.

"I love these," he whispers. "They won't protect you."

"How would you like your eggs?" I ask tartly. He smiles.

"Thoroughly whisked and beaten," he smirks.

I turn back to the task at hand, trying to hide my smile. He's hard to stay mad at. Especially when he's being so uncharacteristically playful.

When I turn back round, there is orange juice on the table, and he's making coffee.

"Would you like some tea?"

"Bit of a foregone conclusion wasn't I?"

"Are you? I'm not sure we've concluded anything yet, Miss Inoue," he murmurs.

_What does he mean by that? Our negotiations? Our, err… relationship… whatever that is? _He's still so cryptic. I serve up the breakfast onto the heated plates and lay them on the placemats. I hunt in the refrigerator and find some maple syrup.

I glance up at Ichigo, and he's waiting for me to sit down.

"Miss Inoue." He motions to one of the bar stools.

"Mr. Kurosaki." I nod in acknowledgement. I climb up and wince slightly as I sit down.

"Just how sore are you?" he asks as he sits down. His chocolate eyes dark.

I flush. _Why does he ask such personal questions?_

"Well, to be truthful, I have nothing to compare this to," I snap at him. "Did you wish to offer your commiserations?" I ask too sweetly. I think he's trying to stifle a smile, but I can't be sure.

"No. I wondered if we should continue your basic training."

"Oh." I stare at him dumbfounded as I stop breathing and everything inside me clench es tight. _Ooh… that's so nice. _I suppress my groan.

"Eat, Orihime." My appetite has become uncertain again… more… more sex… yes please.

"This is delicious, incidentally." He grins at me.

I try a forkful of omelet but can barely taste it. Basic training! _I want to fuck your mouth. _Does that form part of basic training?

"Stop biting your lip. It's very distracting, and I happen to know you're not wearing anything under my shirt which makes it even more distracting," he growls.

I dunk my teabag in the small pot that Ichigo has provided. My mind is in a whirl.

"What sort of basic training did you have in mind?" I ask, my voice slightly too high, betraying my wish to sound as natural, disinterested, and calm as I can with my hormones wreaking havoc through my body.

"Well, as you're sore, I thought we could stick to oral skills."

I choke on my tea, and I stare at him, eyes wide and gaping. He pats me gently on the back and passes me some orange juice. I cannot tell what he's thinking.

"That's if you want to stay," he adds. I glance up at him, trying to recover my equilibrium. His expression is unreadable. It's so frustrating.

"I'd like to stay for today. If that's okay. I have to work tomorrow."

"What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?"

"Nine."

"I'll get you to work by nine tomorrow."

I frown. _Does he want me to stay another night?_

"I'll need to go home tonight – I need clean clothes."

"We can get you some here."

I don't have spare cash to spend on clothes. His hand comes up, and he grasps my chin, tugging it so my lip is released from the grip of my teeth. I'm not even aware I've been biting my lip.

"What is it?" he asks.

"I need to be home this evening." His mouth is a hard line.

"Okay, this evening," he acquiesces. "Now eat your breakfast."

My thoughts and my stomach are in turmoil. My appetite has vanished. I stare at my half-eaten breakfast. I'm just not hungry.

"Eat, Orihime. You didn't eat last night."

"I'm really not hungry," I whisper.

His eyes narrow.

"I would really like you to finish your breakfast."

"What is it with you and food?" I blurt. His brow knits.

"I told you, I have issues with wasted food. Eat," he snaps. His eyes are dark, pained.

_Holy Crap. What is that all about? _I pick up my fork and eat slowly, trying to chew. I must remember not to put so much on my plate if he's going to be weird about food. His expression softens as I carefully make my way through my breakfast. I note that he cleans his plate. He waits for me to finish, and then he clears my plate.

"You cooked, I'll clear."

"That's very democratic."

"Yes." He frowns. "Not my usual style. After I've done this, we'll take a bath."

"Oh, okay." _Oh my… I'd much rather have a shower. _My cell rings, interrupting my reverie. It's Rukia.

"Hi." I wander over to the glass doors of the balcony, away from him.

"Orihime, why didn't you text last night?" She's angry.

"I'm sorry, I was overtaken by events."

"You're okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

"Did you?" She's fishing for information. I roll my eyes at the expectation in her voice.

"Rukia, I don't want to talk over the phone." Ichigo glances up at me.

"You did… I can tell."

How can she tell? She's bluffing, and I can't talk about this. I've signed a damned agreement.

"Rukia, please."

"What was it like? Are you okay?"

"I've told you I'm okay."

"Was he gentle?"

"Rukia, please!" I can't hide my exasperation.

"Orihime, don't hold out on me, I've been waiting for this day for nearly four years."

"I'll see you this evening." I hang up.

That is going to be one difficult square to circle. She's so tenacious, and she wants to know – in detail, and I can't tell her because I've signed a – what was it called? NDA. She'll freak and rightly so. I need a plan. I head back to watch Ichigo move gracefully around his kitchen.

"The NDA, does it cover everything?" I ask tentatively.

"Why?" he turns and gazes at me. I flush.

"Well, I have a few questions, you know, about sex." I stare down at my fingers. "And I'd like to ask Rukia."

"You can ask me."

"Ichigo, with all due respect." My voice fades. _I can't ask you. _I'll get your biased, kinky-as-hell, distorted world-view regarding sex. I want an impartial opinion. "It's just about mechanics. I won't mention the Red Room of Pain."

He raises his eyebrows.

"Red Room of Pain? It's mostly about pleasure, Orihime. Believe me," he says. "Besides," his tone is harsher. "Your room-mate is making the beast with two backs with my brother. I'd really rather you didn't."

"Does your family know about your… um?"

"No. It's none of their business."

"What do you want to know?" he asks, and raising his hand runs his fingers gently down my cheek to my chin, tilting my head back so he can look directly into my eyes. I squirm inwardly. I cannot lie to this man.

"Nothing specific at the moment," I whisper.

"Well, we can start with – how was last night for you?" His eyes burn, filled with curiosity. _He's anxious to know. Wow._

"Good," I murmur.

His lips lift slightly.

"Me too," he murmurs. "I've never had vanilla sex before. There's a lot to be said for it. But then, maybe it's because it's with you." He runs his thumb across my lower lip.

I inhale sharply. _Vanilla sex?_

"Come, let's have a bath." He leans down and kisses me. My heart leaps and desire pools way down low… way down _there._

The bath is a white stone, deep, egg-shaped affair, very designer. Ichigo leans over and fills it from the faucet on the tiled wall. He pours some expensive looking bath oil into the water. It foams as the bath fills and smells of sweet sultry Jasmine. He stands and gazes at me, his eyes dark, then peels his t-shirt off and casts it on the floor.

"Miss Inoue." He holds his hand out.

I'm standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and wary, my arms wrapped around myself. I step forward while admiring his physique. He is just yummy. I take his hand, and he bids me to step into the bath while I am still wearing his shirt. I do as I'm told. I'll have to get used to it if I'm going to take him up on his outrageous offer… _if! _The water is enticingly hot.

"Turn around, face me," he orders, his voice soft. I do as I'm bid. He's watching me intently.

"I know that lip is delicious, I can attest to that, but will you stop biting it?" he says through clenched teeth. "You chewing it makes me want to fuck you, and you're sore, okay?"

I gasp, automatically unlocking my lip, shocked.

"Yeah," he challenges. "Got the picture." He glares at me. I nod frantically_. I had no idea I could affect him so._

"Good."

He reaches down, grasps the hem of my white shirt, lifts it above my head, and discards it on the floor.

He stands back to gaze at me. _I'm naked for heaven's sake. _I flush crimson and stare down at my hands, level with the base of my belly, and I desperately want to disappear into the hot water and foam, but I know he won't want that.

"Hey," he summons me. I peek up at him, and his head is cocked to one side. "Orihime, you're a very beautiful woman, the whole package. Don't hang your head like you're ashamed. You have nothing to be ashamed of, and it's a real joy to stand here and gaze at you." He takes my chin in his hand and tilts my head up to reach his eyes. They are soft and warm, heated even. _Oh my. _He's so close. I could just reach up and touch him.

"You can sit down now." He halts my scattered thoughts, and I scoot down into the warm, welcoming water. Ooh… it stings. Which takes me by surprise, but it smells heavenly too, and the initial smarting pain soon ebbs away. I lie back and briefly close my eyes, relaxing in the soothing warmth. When I open them, he is gazing down at me.

"Why don't you join me?" I ask, bravely I think – my voice husky.

"I think I will. Move forward," he orders.

He strips out of his PJ pants and climbs in behind me. The water rises as he sits and pulls me against his chest. He places his long legs over mine, his knees bent and his ankles level with mine, and he pulls his feet apart, opening my legs. I gasp in surprise. His nose is in my hair and he inhales deeply.

"You smell so good, Orihime."

A tremor runs through my whole body. _I am naked, in a bath with Ichigo Kurosaki. He's naked. _

He reaches for a bottle of body wash from the built-in shelf beside the bath and squirts some into his hand. He rubs his hands together, creating a soft, foaming lather, and he closes his hands around my neck and starts to rub the soap into my neck and shoulders, massaging firmly with his long, strong fingers. I groan. His hands on me feel good.

"You like that?" I hear his smile.

"Hmm."

He moves down my arms, then under them to my underarms washing gently. I'm so glad Rukia insisted I shave. His hands glide across to my breasts, and I inhale sharply as his fingers encircle them and start kneading gently, taking no prisoners. My body bows instinctively, pushing my breasts into his hands.

My nipples are tender. Very tender, no doubt from his less-than-delicate treatment of them last night. He doesn't linger long and glides his hands down to my stomach and belly. My breathing increases, and my heart is racing. His growing erection presses against my behind. It's such a turn-on knowing that it's my body making him feel this way. He stops and reaches for a washcloth as I pant against him, wanting… needing.

My hands rest on his firm, muscular thighs. Squirting more soap on to the washcloth, he leans down and washes between my legs. I hold my breath. His fingers skillfully stimulating me through the cloth, it's heavenly, and my hips start moving at their own rhythm, pushing against his hand.

As the sensations take over, I tilt my head back, my eyes rolling to the back of my head, my mouth slack, and I groan. The pressure is building slowly, inexorably inside me … _oh my._

"Feel it, baby," Ichigo whispers in my ear and very gently grazes my earlobe with his teeth. "Feel it for me." My legs are pinioned by his to the side of the bath, holding me prisoner, giving him easy access to this most private part of myself.

"Oh… please," I whisper. I try to stiffen my legs as my body goes rigid. I am in a sexual thrall to this man, and he doesn't let me move.

"I think you're clean enough now," he murmurs, and he stops. _What! No! No! No! _My breathing is ragged.

"Why are you stopping?" I gasp.

"Because I have other plans for you Orihime."

What… oh my… but… I was… that's not fair.

"Turn around. I need washing, too," he murmurs.

Oh! Turning to face him, I'm shocked to find he has his erection firmly in his grasp. My mouth drops open.

"I want you to become well acquainted, on first name terms if you will, with my favorite and most cherished part of my body. I'm very attached to this."

_It's so big and growing. _His erection is above the water line, the water lapping at his hips. I glance up at him and come face to face with his wicked grin. He's enjoying my astounded expression. I realize that I'm staring. I swallow. _That was inside me! _It doesn't seem possible. He wants me to touch him. _Hmm_… okay, bring it on.

I smile at him and reach for the body wash, squirting some soap onto my hand. I do as he's done, lathering the soap in my hands until they are foamy.

I do not take my eyes off his. My lips are parted to accommodate my breathing… very deliberately I gently bite my bottom lip and then run my tongue across it, tracing where my teeth have been. His eyes are serious and dark, and they widen as my tongue skims my lower lip. I reach forward and place one of my hands around him, mirroring how he's holding himself.

His eyes close briefly. Wow… feels much firmer than I expect. I squeeze, and he places his hand over mine.

"Like this," he whispers, and he moves his hand up and down with a firm grip round my fingers, and my fingers tighten around him. He closes his eyes again, and his breath hitches in his throat. When he opens them again, his gaze is scorching molten black. "That's right, baby."

He releases my hand, leaving me to continue alone, and closes his eyes as I move up and down his length. He flexes his hips slightly into my hand and reflexively I grasp him tighter.

A low groan escapes from deep within his throat. _Fuck my mouth… hmm. _I remember him pushing his thumb in my mouth and asking me to suck, hard. His mouth drops open slightly as his breathing increases.

I lean forward, while he has his eyes closed, and place my lips around him and tentatively suck, running my tongue over the tip.

"Whoa… Orihime." His eyes fly open, and I suck harder.

Hmm… he's soft and hard at once, like steel encased in velvet, and surprisingly tasty – salty and smooth.

"Christ," he groans, and he closes his eyes again.

Moving down, I push him into my mouth. He groans again. _Ha! _I can do this. _I can _fuck _him _with my mouth. I twirl my tongue around the tip again, and he flexes his hips. His eyes are open now, blistering with heat.

His teeth are clenched as he flexes again, and I push him deeper into my mouth, supporting myself on his thighs. I feel his legs tense beneath my hands. He reaches up and grabs my pigtails and starts to really move.

"Oh… baby… that feels good," he murmurs. I suck harder, flicking my tongue across the head of his impressive erection. Wrapping my teeth behind my lips, I clamp my mouth around him. His breath hisses between his teeth, and he groans.

"Jesus. How far can you go?" he whispers.

_Hmm… _I pull him deeper into my mouth so I can feel him at the back of my throat and then to the front again. My tongue swirls around the end. He's my very own Ichigo Kurosaki flavor popsicle.

I suck harder and harder, pushing him deeper and deeper, swirling my tongue round and round. _Hmm… _I had no idea giving pleasure could be such a turn-on, watching him writhe subtly with carnal longing.

"Orihime, I'm going to come in your mouth," his breathy tone is warning. "If you don't want me to, stop now." He flexes his hips again, his eyes are wide, wary, and filled with salacious need – need for me. Need for my mouth... _oh my._

Holy crap. His hands are really gripping my hair. I can do this. I push even harder and, in a moment of extraordinary confidence, I bare my teeth. It tips him over the edge.

He cries out and stills, and I can feel warm, salty liquid oozing down my throat. I swallow quickly. I sit back and watch him, a triumphant, gloating smile tugging at the corners of my lips. His breathing is ragged. Opening his eyes, he glares at me.

"Don't you have a gag reflex?" he asks, astonished. "Christ, Orihime… that was… good, really good, unexpected though." He frowns. "You know, you never cease to amaze me."

I smile and consciously bite my lip. He eyes me speculatively.

"Have you done that before?"

"No." And I can't help the small tinge of pride in my denial.

"Good," he says complacently and, I think, relieved. "Yet another first, Miss Inoue." He looks appraisingly at me. "Well, you get an A in oral skills. Come, let's go to bed, I owe you an orgasm."

_Orgasm! Another one!_

Quickly, he clambers out of the bath, giving me my first full glimpse of the Adonis, divinely formed, that is Ichigo Kurosaki. He wraps a small towel around his waist, covering the essentials, and holds out a larger fluffy white towel for me. He wraps me in the towel, pulls me into his arms, and kisses me hard, pushing his tongue into my mouth.

I long to reach round and embrace him… touch him… but he has my arms trapped in the towel. I'm soon lost in his kiss. He cradles my head, his tongue exploring my mouth, and I get a sense he's expressing his gratitude – maybe – for my first blowjob? _Whoa?_

He pulls away, his hands on either side of my face, staring intently into my eyes. He looks lost.

"Say yes," he whispers fervently.

I frown, not understanding.

"To what?"

"Yes to our arrangement. To being mine. Please, Orihime," he whispers, emphasizing the last word and my name, pleading. He kisses me again, sweetly, passionately, before he stands back and stares at me, blinking slightly. He takes my hand and leads me back to his bedroom, leaving me reeling, so I follow him meekly. Stunned. _He really wants this._

In his bedroom, he stares down at me as we stand by his bed.

"Trust me?" he asks suddenly. I nod, wide-eyed with the sudden realization that I do trust him. _What's he going to do to me now? _An electric thrill hums through me.

"Good girl," he breathes, his thumb brushing my bottom lip. He steps away into his closet and comes back with a silver silk woven tie.

"Knit your hands together in front of you," I do as he asks, and he binds my wrists together with his tie, knotting it firmly. His eyes are bright with wild excitement. He tugs at the binding. It's secure. _Some boy scout he must have been to learn these knots. _What now? My pulse has gone through the roof, my heart beating a frantic tattoo.

Instinctively, I move back until I feel the bed against the back of my knees. He drops his towel, but I can't take my eyes off his face. His expression is ardent, full of desire.

"Oh, Orihime, what shall I do to you?" he whispers as he lowers me on to the bed, lying beside me, and raising my hands above my head.

"Keep your hands up here, don't move them, understand?" His eyes burn into mine, and I'm breathless from their intensity. This is not a man I want to cross… ever.

"Answer me," he demands, his voice soft.

"I won't move my hands." I'm breathless.

"Good girl," he murmurs and deliberately licks his lips slowly. I'm mesmerized by his tongue as it sweeps slowly over his upper lip. He's staring into my eyes, watching me, appraising.

"I'm going to kiss you all over, Miss Inoue," he says softly, and he cups my chin, push ing it up giving him access to my throat. His lips glide down my throat, kissing, sucking, and nipping, to the small dip at the base of my neck. My body leaps to attention… every where.

My recent bath experience has made my skin hyper-sensitive. My heated blood pools low in my belly, between my legs, right down _there. _I groan.

I want to touch him. I move my hands and rather awkwardly, given I'm restrained, feel his hair. He stops kissing me and glares up at me, shaking his head from side to side, tutting as he does. He reaches for my hands and places them above my head again.

"Don't move your hands, or we just have to start all over again," he scolds me mildly. Oh, he's such a tease.

"I want to touch you." My voice is all breathy and out of control.

"I know," he murmurs. "Keep your hands above your head," he orders, his voice forceful.

He cups my chin again and starts to kiss my throat as before. Oh… he's so frustrating. His hands run down my body and over my breasts as he reaches the dip at the base of my neck with his lips. He swirls the tip of his nose around it then begins a very leisurely cruise with his mouth, heading south, following the path of his hands, down my sternum to my breasts.

Each one is kissed and nipped gently and my nipples tenderly sucked. _Holy crap. _My hips start swaying and moving of their own accord, grinding to the rhythm of his mouth on me, and I'm desperately trying to remember to keep my hands above my head.

"Keep still," he warns his breath warm against my skin. Reaching my navel, he dips his tongue inside, and then gently grazes my belly with his teeth. My body bows off the bed.

"Hmm. You are so sweet, Miss Inoue." His nose glides along the line between my belly and my pubic hair, biting me gently, teasing me with his tongue. Sitting up suddenly, he kneels at my feet, grasping both my ankles and spreading my legs wide.

_Holy shit. _He grabs my left foot, bends my knee, and brings my foot up to his mouth. Watching and assessing my every reaction, he tenderly kisses each of my toes then bites each one of them softly on the pads. When he reaches my little toe, he bites harder, and I convulse, whimpering.

He glides his tongue up my instep – and I can no longer watch him. It's too erotic. I'm going to combust. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to absorb and manage all the sensations he's creating. He kisses my ankle and trails kisses up my calf to my knee, stopping just above. He then starts on my right foot, repeating the whole, seductive, mind-blowing process.

"Oh, please," I moan as he bites my little toe, the action resonating deep in my belly.

"All good things, Miss Inoue," he breathes.

This time he doesn't stop at my knee, he continues up the inside of my thigh, pushing my thighs apart as he does. And I know what he's going to do, and part of me wants to push him off because I'm mortified and embarrassed.

He's going to kiss me _there! _I know it. And part of me is glorying in the anticipation. He turns to my other knee and kisses his way up my thigh, kissing, licking, sucking, and then he's between my legs, running his nose up and down my sex, very softly, very gently. I writhe… _oh my._

He stops, waiting for me to calm. I do and raise my head to gaze at him, my mouth open as my pounding heart struggles to come out.

"Do you know how intoxicating you smell, Miss Inoue?" he murmurs, and keeping his eyes on mine, he pushes his nose into my pubic hair and inhales.

I flush scarlet, everywhere, feeling faint, and I instantly close my eyes. I can't watch him do that!

He blows gently up the length of my sex. _Oh fuck…_

"Oh… please," I beg.

"Hmm, I like it when you beg me, Orihime."

I groan.

"Tit for tat is not my usual style, Miss Inoue," he whispers as he gently blows up and down me. "But you've pleased me today, and you should be rewarded." I hear the wicked grin in his voice, and while my body is singing from his words, his tongue starts to slowly circle my clitoris as his hands hold down my thighs.

"Aargh!" I moan as my body bows and convulses at the touch of his tongue.

He swirls his tongue round and round, again and again, keeping up the torture. I'm losing all sense of self, every atom of my being concentrating hard on that small, potent powerhouse at the apex of my thighs.

My legs go rigid, and he slips his finger inside me, and I hear his growling groan.

"Oh, baby. I love that you're so wet for me."

He moves his finger in a wide circle, stretching me, pulling at me, his tongue mirroring his actions, round and round, I groan. It is too much… My body begs for relief, and I can no longer deny it. I let go, losing all cogent thought as my orgasm seizes me, wringing my insides again and again.

_Holy fuck. _I cry out, and the world dips and disappears from view as the force of my climax renders everything null and void.

I am panting and vaguely hear the rip of foil. Very slowly he eases into me and starts to move. Oh… my. The feeling is sore and sweet, and bold and gentle all at once.

"How's this?" he breathes.

"Fine. Good," I breathe. And he really starts to move, fast, hard, and large, thrusting into me over and over, implacable, pushing me and pushing me until I am close to the edge again. I whimper.

"Come for me, baby." His voice is harsh, hard, raw at my ear, and I explode around him as he pounds rapidly into me.

"Thank fuck," he whispers, and he thrusts hard once more and groans as he reaches his climax, pressing himself into me. Then he stills, his body rigid.

Collapsing on top of me, I feel his full weight forcing me into the mattress. I pull my tied hands over his neck and hold him the best I can. I know in that moment that I would do anything for this man.

I am his. The wonder that he's introduced me to, it's beyond anything I could have imagined. And he wants to take it further, so much further, to a place I can't, in my innocence, even imagine. _Oh… what to do?_

He leans up on his elbows and stares down at me, dark chocolate eyes intense.

"See how good we are together," he murmurs. "If you give yourself to me, it will be so much better. Trust me, Orihime, I can take you places you don't even know exist."

His words echo my thoughts. He strokes his nose against mine. I am still reeling from my extraordinary physical reaction to him, and I gaze up at him blankly, grasping for a coherent thought.

Suddenly we both become aware of voices in the hall outside his bedroom door. It takes a moment to process what I can hear.

"_But if he's still in bed, then he must be ill. He's never in bed at this time. Ichigo never sleeps in."_

"_Mrs. Kurosaki, please."_

"_Chad. You cannot keep me from my son."_

"_Mrs. Kurosaki, he's not alone."_

"_What do you mean he's not alone?"_

"_He has someone with him."_

" _Oh… " _Even I hear the disbelief in her voice.

Ichigo blinks rapidly, staring down at me, wide-eyed with humored horror.

"Shit! It's my mother."

* * *

_**Oh Shit! Can we say busted…hahaha I wonder how mother is going to take it. Remember everyone thinks he's gay. **__**Tit for tat...hum as they say. Well let me know what you all thought. I can't believe that I have had almost 5000 views of this story…holy shit. Thanks a million guys! Gwen-chan out!  
**_


	8. Chapter 8

**Title**: 50 Shades of Kurosaki

**WARNINGS**: This story is for mature individuals _**NOT FOR ANYONE UNDERAGE**_. I do not write to corrupt young curious children. If you are underage leave this story NOW! Now that's out of the way. This story is OOC and AU (sorry). This is also a kinky love story.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing! Tite Kubo owns the rights for bleach and E. L. James owns 50 Shades Trilogy.

**A/N:** _Hello everyone_ _and thank you for the reviews. I really like getting reviews, comments or questions. I still like to personally thank SourxApples and Captain Levi, you guys are the best. Please check out their stories. Enjoy!_

* * *

"Come on, we need to get dressed – that's if you want to meet my mother." He grins, leaps up off the bed. I struggle to sit up as I'm still tethered.

"Ichigo - I can't move."

His grin widens, and leaning down, he undoes the tie. The woven pattern has made an indented pattern around my wrists. It's… sexy. He gazes at me. He's amused. He kisses my forehead quickly and beams at me.

"Another first," he acknowledges, but I have no idea what he's talking about.

"I have no clean clothes in here." I am filled with sudden panic, and considering what I've just experienced, I'm finding the panic overwhelming. His mother! _Holy crap. _I have no clean clothes, and she's practically walked in on us. "Perhaps I should stay here."

"Oh, no, you don't," Ichigo threatens. "You can wear something of mine." He's slipped on a white t-shirt and runs his hand through his just-fucked hair. In spite of my anxiety, I lose my train of thought.

"Orihime, you could be wearing a sack and you'd look lovely. Please don't worry. I'd like you to meet my mother. Get dressed. I'll just go and calm her down." His mouth presses into a hard line.

"I will expect you in that room in five minutes, otherwise I'll come and drag you out of here myself in whatever you're wearing. My t-shirts are in this drawer. My shirts are in the closet. Help yourself." He eyes me speculatively for a moment, then leaves the room.

_Holy shit. Ichigo's mother. _This is so much more than I bargained for. Perhaps meeting her will help put a little part of the jigsaw in place. Might help me understand why Ichigo is the way he is… Suddenly, I want to meet her.

I pull my shirt off the floor, and I'm pleased to discover that it has survived the night. I find my blue bra under the bed and dress quickly. But if there's one thing I hate, it's not wearing clean panties. I rifle through Ichigo's chest of drawers and come across his boxer briefs. After pulling on a pair I tug on my jeans and my shoes.

I dash into the bathroom and stare at my too-bright eyes and my hair! Holy crap… just-fucked pigtails do not suit me either. A ponytail is the only answer. I despair at my clothes. Maybe I should take Ichigo up on his offer of clothes.

Struggling into my jacket, pleased that the cuffs cover the tell-tale patterns from his tie, I take a last anxious glance at myself in the mirror. This will have to do. I make my way into the main living room.

"Here she is." Ichigo stands from where he's lounging on the couch.

His expression is warm and appreciative. The auburn-haired woman beside him turns and beams at me, a full megawatt smile. She looks groomed, elegant, beautiful, and inside I die a little, knowing I look such a mess.

"Mother, this is Orihime Inoue. Orihime, this is Masaki Kurosaki."

Dr. Kurosaki holds her hand out to me.

"What a pleasure to meet you," she murmurs. If I'm not mistaken, there is wonder and maybe stunned relief in her voice and a warm glow in her hazel eyes. I grasp her hand, and I can't help but smile, returning her warmth.

"Dr. Kurosaki," I murmur.

"Call me Masaki," she grins, and Ichigo frowns.

"So how did you two meet?" She looks questioningly at Ichigo, unable to hide her curiosity.

"Orihime interviewed me for the student paper at WSU because I'm conferring the degrees there this week."

_Double crap. _I'd forgotten that.

"So you are graduating this week?" Masaki asks.

"Yes."

My cell phone starts ringing. _Rukia, I bet. _

"Excuse me." It's in the kitchen. I wander over and lean across the breakfast bar, not checking the number.

"Rukia."

"Good morning! Orihime!" _Holy crap, it's Uryū. _He sounds desperate. "Where are you? I've been trying to contact you. I need to see you, to apologize for my behavior on Friday. Why haven't you returned my calls?"

"Look Uryū, now's not a good time." I glance anxiously over at Ichigo who's watching me intently, his face impassive as he murmurs something to his mom. I turn my back to him.

"Where are you? Rukia is being so evasive," he whines.

"I'm in Tokyo."

"What are you doing in Tokyo? Are you with him?"

"Uryū, I'll call you later. I can't talk to you now." I hang up.

I walk as nonchalantly back to Ichigo and his mother. Masaki is in full flow.

"… And Renji called to say you were around – I haven't seen you for two weeks, darling."

"Did he now?" Ichigo murmurs, gazing at me, his expression unreadable.

"I thought we might have lunch together, but I can see you have other plans, and I don't want to interrupt your day." She gathers up her long coat and turns to him. He kisses her briefly, sweetly.

"I have to drive Orihime back to Karakura Town."

"Of course, darling. Orihime, it's been such a pleasure. I do hope we meet again." She holds her hand out to me, her eyes glowing, and we shake.

Chad appears from… _where?_

"Mrs. Kurosaki?" he asks.

"Thank you, Chad." He escorts her from the room and through the double doors to the foyer. Chad was here the whole time? How long has he been here? Where has he been?

Ichigo glares at me.

"So the photographer called?"

_Crap. _

"Yes."

"What did he want?"

"Just to apologize, you know – for Friday."

Ichigo narrows his eyes.

"I see," he says simply.

"Does he live here? Chad?"

"Yes." His tone is clipped. _What is his problem?_

He looks forbidding, and with one quick glance at me, he heads into his study and returns a moment later.

"This is the contract. Read it, and we'll discuss it next weekend. May I suggest you do some research, so you know what's involved." He pauses. "That's if you agree, and I really hope you do." He adds, his tone softer, anxious.

"Research?"

"You'll be amazed what you can find on the Internet," he murmurs.

Internet! I don't have access to a computer, only Rukia's laptop, and I couldn't use it for this sort of 'research' surely?

"What is it?" he asks, cocking his head to one side.

"I don't have a computer. I'll see if I can use Rukia's laptop."

He hands me a manila envelope.

"I'm sure I can… err, lend you one. Grab your things, we'll drive back to Karakura Town and grab some lunch on the way. I need to dress."

"I'll just make a call," I murmur. I just want to hear Rukia's voice. He frowns.

"The photographer?" His jaw clenches, and his eyes burn. I blink at him. "I don't like to share, Miss Inoue. Remember that." His quiet, chilling tone is a warning, and with one long, cold look at me, he heads back to the bedroom.

Holy crap. _I just wanted to call Rukia, _I want to call after him, but his sudden has left me paralyzed. What happened to the generous, relaxed, smiling man who was making love to me not half an hour ago?

* * *

"Ready?" Ichigo asks as we stand by the double doors to the foyer.

I nod uncertainly. He's resumed his distant, polite, uptight persona, his mask back up and on show. He's carrying a leather messenger bag. Why does he need that? Perhaps he's staying in Karakura Town, and then I remember graduation.

Oh yes… he'll be there on Thursday. He's wearing a black leather jacket. He certainly doesn't look like the multi-multi-million aire, billionaire, what-ever-aire, in these clothes.

He looks like a boy from the wrong side of the tracks, maybe a badly behaved rock star or a catwalk model. I sigh inwardly, wishing I had a tenth of his poise. He's so calm and controlled. I frown, recalling his outburst about Uryū… Well, he seems to be.

Chad is hovering in the background.

"Tomorrow then," he says to Chad who nods.

"Safe trip, Mr. Kurosaki. Miss Inoue." Chad looks kindly at me, though perhaps there's a hint of pity hidden in the depths of his eyes.

No doubt he thinks I've succumbed to Mr. Kurosaki's dubious sexual habits. Not yet, just his exceptional sexual habits, or perhaps sex is like that for everyone. I frown at the thought.

I have no comparison, and I can't ask Rukia. That's something I am going to have to address with Ichigo. It's perfectly natural that I should talk to someone – and I can't talk to him if he is so open one minute and so standoffish the next.

"What is it, Orihime?" he asks. How does he know I'm chewing something over in my mind? He reaches up and pulls my chin.

"Stop biting your lip, or I will fuck you in the elevator, and I don't care who gets in with us."

I blush, but there's a hint of a smile around his lips, finally his mood seems to be shifting.

"Ichigo, I have a problem."

"Oh?" I have his full attention.

The elevator arrives.

"Well," I flush. _How to say this? _"I need to talk to Rukia. I've so many questions about sex, and you're too involved. If you want me to do all these things, how do I know–?" I pause, struggling to find the right words. "I just don't have any terms of reference."

He rolls his eyes at me.

"Talk to her if you must." He sounds exasperated. "Make sure she doesn't mention anything to Renji."

I bristle at his insinuation. _Rukia isn't like that._

"She wouldn't do that, and I wouldn't tell you anything she tells me about Renji – if she were to tell me anything," I add quickly.

"Well, the difference is that I don't want to know about his sex life," Ichigo murmurs dryly. "Renji's a nosy bastard. But only about what we've done so far," he warns. "She'd probably have my balls if she knew what I wanted to do to you," he adds so softly I'm not sure I'm supposed to hear it.

"Okay," I agree readily, smiling up at him, relieved.

His lip quirks up at me, and he shakes his head.

"The sooner I have your submission the better, and we can stop all this," he murmurs.

"Stop all what?"

"You, defying me." He reaches down and cups my chin and plants a swift, sweet kiss on my lips as the doors to the elevator open. He grabs my hand and leads me into the underground garage.

_Me, defying him… how?_

"Nice car," I murmur dryly.

He glances up and grins.

"I know," he says, and for a split second, sweet, young, carefree Ichigo is back. It warms my heart. He's so excited. _Boys and their toys. _I roll my eyes at him but can't stifle my smile. He opens the door for me and I climb in. Whoa… it's low.

He starts the ignition, and the engine roars behind us.

Then we're out into the bright Tokyo May morning.

Ichigo glances at me. He's got his Ray-Bans on so I can't see what he's thinking. His mouth twitches slightly, and he reaches across and places his hand on my knee, squeezing gently. My breath hitches.

"Hungry?" he asks.

_Not for food._

"Not particularly."

His mouth tightens into that hard line.

"You must eat, Orihime," he chides. "I know a great place near Olympia. We'll stop there." He squeezes my knee again, and then returns his hand to the steering wheel as he puts his foot down on the gas.

* * *

The restaurant is small and intimate.

"I've not been here for a while." The waitress takes our drinks order. She flushes when she sees Ichigo, avoiding eye contact with him, hiding under her long blonde bangs. She likes him! _It's not just me!_

"Two glasses of wine," Ichigo says with a voice of authority. I purse my lips, exasperated.

"What?" he snaps.

"I wanted a Diet Coke," I whisper.

His chocolate eyes narrow, and he shakes his head.

"My mother liked you," he says dryly.

"Really?" His words make me flush with pleasure.

"Oh yes. She's always thought I was gay."

My mouth drops open, and I remember _that question… from the interview. Oh no._

"Why did she think you were gay?" I whisper.

"Because she's never seen me with a girl."

"Oh… not even one of the fifteen?"

He smiles.

"You remembered. No, none of the fifteen."

"Oh."

"You know, Orihime, it's been a weekend of firsts for me, too," he says quietly.

"It has?"

"I've never slept with anyone, never had sex in my bed, never flown a girl in Charlie Tango, never introduced a woman to my mother. What are you doing to me?" His eyes burn, their intensity takes my breath away.

"I've really enjoyed this weekend," I murmur. He narrows his eyes at me again.

"Stop biting that lip," he growls. "Me too," he adds.

"What's vanilla sex?" I ask, if anything to distract myself from the intense, burning, sexy look he's giving me. He laughs.

"Just straightforward sex, Orihime. No toys, no added extras." He shrugs. "You know… well actually you don't, but that's what it means."

"Oh." I thought it was chocolate fudge brownie sex that we had, with a cherry on the top. But hey, what do I know?

The waitress brings us soup. We both stare at it rather dubiously.

"Nettle soup," the waitress informs us before turning and flouncing back into the kitchen. Ichigo and I look up at each other at the same time with relief. I giggle, and he cocks his head to one side.

"That's a lovely sound," he murmurs.

"Why have you never had vanilla sex before? Have you always done… err, what you've done?" I ask, intrigued.

He nods slowly.

"Sort of." His voice is wary. He frowns for a moment and seems to be engaged in some kind of internal struggle. Then he glances up, a decision made. "One of my mother's friends seduced me when I was fifteen."

"Oh." _Holy shit that's young!_

"She had very particular tastes. I was her submissive for six years." He shrugs.

"Oh." My brain has frozen, stunned into inactivity by this admission.

"So I do know what it involves, Orihime." His eyes glow with insight.

I stare at him, unable to articulate anything – even my subconscious is silent.

"I didn't really have a run-of-the-mill introduction to sex."

Curiosity kicks in big time.

"So you never dated anyone at college?"

"No." He shakes his head to emphasize the point.

The waitress takes our plates, interrupting us for a moment.

"Why?" I ask when she's gone.

He smiles sardonically.

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes."

"I didn't want to. She was all I wanted, needed. And besides, she'd have beaten the shit out of me." He smiles fondly at the memory.

_Oh, this is way too much information – _but I want more.

"So if she was a friend of your mother's, how old was she?"

He smirks.

"Old enough to know better."

"Do you still see her?"

"Yes."

"Do you still… err… ?" I flush.

"No." He shakes his head and smiles indulgently at me. "She's a very good friend."

"Oh. Does your mother know?"

He gives me a don't-be-stupid stare.

"Of course not."

What a revelation. _Ichigo the submissive… Holy shit. _Jeez, all these revelations, it's so much to think about. I need time to process this, when I'm on my own, not when I'm distracted by his presence.

He's so overwhelming, so Alpha Male, and now he's thrown this bombshell into the equation. _He knows what it's like._

"But it can't have been full time?" I'm confused.

"Well, it was, though I didn't see her all the time. It was… difficult. After all, I was still at school and then at college. Eat up, Orihime."

"I'm really not hungry, Ichigo." _I am reeling from your disclosure._

His expression hardens.

"Eat," he says quietly, too quietly.

I stare at him. This man – sexually abused as an adolescent – his tone is so threatening.

"Give me a moment," I mutter quietly. He blinks a couple of times.

"Okay," he murmurs, and he continues with his meal.

This is what it will be like if I sign, him ordering me around. I frown. _Do I want this? _

"Is this what our err… relationship will be like?" I whisper. "You, ordering me around?" I can't quite bring myself to look at him.

"Yes," he murmurs.

"I see."

"And what's more, you'll want me to," he adds, his voice low.

_I sincerely doubt that. _"It's a big step," I murmur and eat.

"It is." He closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them, they are wide and grave. "Orihime, you have to go with your gut. Do the research, read the contract – I'm happy to discuss any aspect. I'll be in Karakura Town until Friday if you want to talk about it before then."

His words are coming at me in a rush. "Call me – maybe we can have dinner – say, Wednesday? I really want to make this work. In fact, I've never wanted anything as much as I want this to work."

His burning sincerity, his longing, is reflected in his eyes. This is fundamentally what I don't grasp. _Why me? _Why not one of the fifteen? Oh no… Will that be me – a number? Sixteen of many?

"What happened to the fifteen?" I blurt.

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, then looks resigned, shaking his head.

"Various things, but it boils down to," he pauses, struggling to find the words I think. "Incompatibility." He shrugs.

"And you think that I might be compatible with you?"

"Yes."

"So you're not seeing any of them anymore?"

"No, Orihime, I'm not. I am monogamous in my relationships."

Oh… _this is news. _

"I see."

"Do the research, Orihime."

My stomach is churning with all this new information, and I'm feeling a little lightheaded from the wine. I watch as he devours everything on his plate. He eats like a horse. He must work out to stay in such great shape.

The memory of the way his PJ's hung from his hips comes unbidden to my mind. The image is totally distracting. I squirm uncomfortably. He glances up at me, and I blush.

"I'd give anything to know what you're thinking right at this moment," he murmurs. I blush further.

He smiles a wicked smile at me.

"I can guess," he teases softly.

"I'm glad you can't read my mind."

"Your mind, no, Orihime, but your body – _that _I've got to know quite well since yesterday." His voice is suggestive.

How does he switch so quickly from one mood to the next? It's hard to keep up.

He motions for the waitress and asks for the check. Once he's paid, he stands and holds out his hand.

"Come." Taking my hand in his, he leads me back to the car.

* * *

When he parks outside my apartment, it's five in the evening. The lights are on – Rukia is at home. Packing, no doubt, unless Renji is still there. He switches off the engine, and I realize I'm going to have to leave him.

"Do you want to come in?" I ask. I don't want him to go. I want to prolong our time together.

"No. I have work to do," he says simply, gazing at me, his expression unfathomable.

I stare down at my hands, as I knot my fingers together. Suddenly I feel emotional. He's leaving. Reaching over, he takes one of my hands and slowly pulls it to his mouth, tenderly kissing the back of my hand, such an old fashioned, sweet gesture. My heart leaps into my mouth.

"Thank you for this weekend, Orihime. It's been… the best. Wednesday? I'll pick you up from work, from wherever?" he says softly.

"Wednesday," I whisper.

He kisses my hand again and places it back in my lap. He climbs out, comes round to my side, and opens the passenger door. Why do I feel suddenly like crying? A lump forms in my throat.

Fixing a smile on my face, I clamber out of the car and head up the path, knowing I have to face Rukia, dreading facing Rukia. I turn and gaze at him midway.

"Oh… by the way, I'm wearing your underwear." I give him a small smile and pull up the waistband of the boxer briefs I'm wearing so he can see.

Ichigo's mouth drops open, shocked. What a great reaction. My mood shifts immediately, and I sashay into the house, part of me wanting to jump and punch the air. _YES! _

* * *

Rukia is in the living area packing up her books into crates.

"You're back. Where's Ichigo? How are you?" Her voice is fevered, anxious, and she bounds up to me, grabbing my shoulders, minutely analyzing my face before I've even said hello.

_Crap_… I have to deal with Rukia's persistence and tenacity, and I'm in possession of a legal signed document saying I can't talk. It's not a healthy mix.

"Well how was it? I couldn't stop thinking about you, after Renji left, that is." She grins mischievously.

I feel shy. I blush. It was very private. All of it. But I have to give her some details, because she won't leave me alone until I do.

"It was good, Rukia. Very good, I think," I say quietly, trying to hide my embarrassed tell-all smile.

"You think?"

"I've got nothing to compare it to, do I?" I shrug apologetically.

"I'm glad you lost it to someone who knows their ass from their elbow." She winks at me. "So when are you seeing him again?"

"Wednesday. We're having dinner."

"So you still like him?"

"Yes. But I don't know about… the future."

"Why?"

"He's complicated, Rukia. You know – he inhabits a very different world to mine." Great excuse. Believable too. Much better than – _he's got a Red Room of Pain, and he wants to make me his sex slave._

"Oh please, don't let this be about money, Orihime. Renji said it's very unusual for Ichigo to date anyone."

"Did he?" My voice hitches up several octaves.

_Too obvious, Inoue! _"Orihime, what is it?"

"I'm just remembering something Ichigo said."

"You look different," Rukia says fondly.

"I feel different. Sore," I confess.

"Sore?"

"A little." I flush.

"Me too. Men," she says in mock disgust. "They're animals." We both laugh.

"You're sore?" I exclaim.

"Yes… overuse."

I giggle.

"Tell me about Renji the over-user," I ask when I've stopped giggling.

Rukia blushes. She gives me a dewy-eyed look. I've never seen her react this way to a man before. My jaw drops to the floor. _Where's Rukia, what have you done with her?_

"Oh, Orihime," she gushes. "He's just so… Everything. And when we… oh… really good." She can hardly string a sentence together she's got it so bad.

"I think you're trying to tell me that you like him."

She nods, grinning like a lunatic.

"And I'm seeing him on Saturday. He's going to help us move." She clasps her hands together, leaps up off the couch.

"That's helpful of him," I say appreciatively. I can get to know him too. Perhaps he can give me more insight into his strange, disturbing brother.

She grins at me. "Are you okay really? You look kind of overwhelmed."

"I feel overwhelmed. Ichigo is very intense."

"Yeah, I could see how he could be. But he was good to you?"

"Yes," I reassure her.

A couple of letters came for you, and Uryū has been calling every hour on the hour. He sounded desperate."

"I'll call him," I mutter evasively. If I tell Rukia about Uryū, she'll have him for breakfast. I collect the letters from the dining table and open them.

"Hey, I have interviews! The week after next, in Tokyo, for intern placements!"

"For which publishing house?"

"For both of them!"

"I told you your GPA would open doors, Orihime."

The phone rings, jolting me from my reverie.

"That'll be Uryū."

I sigh. I know I have to talk to him. I grab the phone.

"Hi."

"Orihime, you're back!" Uryū shouts his relief at me.

"Obviously." Sarcasm drips from my voice, and I roll my eyes at the phone.

He's silent for a moment.

"Can I see you? I'm sorry about Friday night. I was drunk… and you… well. Orihime – please forgive me."

"Of course, I forgive you Uryū. Just don't do it again. You know I don't feel like that about you."

He sighs heavily, sadly.

"I know, Orihime. I just thought, if I kissed you, it might change how you feel."

"Uryū, I love you dearly, you mean so much to me. You're like the brother I never had. That's not going to change. You know that." I hate to let him down, but it's the truth.

"So you're with him now?" His tone is full of disdain.

"Uryū, I'm not with anybody."

"But you spent the night with him."

"That's none of your business!"

"Is it the money?"

"Uryū! How dare you!" I shout, staggered by his audacity.

"Orihime," he whines and apologizes simultaneously. I cannot deal with his petty jealousy now. I know he's hurt, but my plate is overflowing dealing with Ichigo Kurosaki.

"Maybe we can have a coffee or something tomorrow. I'll call you." He is my friend, and I'm very fond of him. But right now, I don't need this.

"Tomorrow then. You'll call?" The hope in his voice twists my heart.

"Yes… goodnight, Uryū." I hang up, not waiting for his response.

"What was that all about?" Rukia demands, her hands on her hips. I decide honesty is the policy. She's looking more intractable than ever.

"He made a pass at me on Friday."

"Uryū? _And _Ichigo Kurosaki? Orihime, your pheromones must be working overtime. What was the stupid fool thinking?" She shakes her head in disgust and returns to packing crates.

The phone rings again. It's Renji. Rukia winks at me and skips off to her bedroom like she's fourteen. I know that she should be writing her Valedictorian speech, but it seems Renji is more important.

What is it about the Kurosaki men? What is it that makes them totally distracting, all-consuming, and irresistible? I know I'm procrastinating. Burning a bright red hole in the side of my purse is that contract. Do I have the strength and the wherewithal to read it tonight?

I put my head in my hands. Uryū and Ichigo, they both want something from me. Uryū is easy to deal with. But Ichigo… Ichigo takes a whole different league of handling, of understanding. Part of me wants to run and hide.

What am I going to do? His burning chocolate eyes and that intense smoldering stare come into my mind's eye, and my body tightens at the thought. I gasp. He's not even here, and I'm turned on. It just can't be about sex, can it?

He's such a complicated person. And now I have an insight as to why. A young man deprived of his adolescence, sexually abused by some evil Mrs. Robinson figure… no wonder he's old before his time.

My heart fills with sadness at the thought of what he must have been through. I'm too naive to know exactly what, but the research should shed some light. But do I really want to know? Do I want to explore this world I know nothing about? It's such a big step.

My mind drifts to last night, and this morning… and the incredible, sensual sexuality I've experienced. Do I want to say goodbye to that? _No! _

Collecting my purse, I wander listlessly into my bedroom. I am weary from all our carnal exertions of the last day and from the complete and utter dilemma that I'm faced with.

I sit on my bed and gingerly extract the manila envelope from the bag, turning it over and over in my hands. Do I really want to know the extent of Ichigo's depravity? It's so daunting. I take a deep breath, and with my heart in my throat, I rip open the envelope.

* * *

_**I hope you all liked? The next chapter will be the contract in full content. If you think you can't handle knowing all the fine details then please don't read it and skip over to the next chapter. Please leave a review or at least say hi. Gwen-chan out! **_


	9. Chapter 9

**Title**: 50 Shades of Kurosaki

**WARNINGS**: This story is for mature individuals _**NOT FOR ANYONE UNDERAGE**_. I do not write to corrupt young curious children. If you are underage leave this story NOW! Now that's out of the way. This story is OOC and AU (sorry). This is also a kinky love story.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing! Tite Kubo owns the rights for bleach and E. L. James owns 50 Shades Trilogy.

**A/N:** _Hello everyone_ _and thank you for the reviews. I really like getting reviews, comments or questions. I still like to personally thank SourxApples and Captain Levi, you guys are the best. Please check out their stories. Enjoy!_

* * *

There are several papers inside the envelope. I fish them out, my heart still pounding, and I sit back on my bed and begin to read.

**CONTRACT**

_Made this day_ of 2013 ("The Commencement Date")_

_BETWEEN_

_MR. ICHIGO KUROSAKI_

_("The Dominant")_

_MISS ORIHIME INOUE_

_("The Submissive")_

_THE PARTIES AGREE AS FOLLOWS_

_1 The following are the terms of a binding contract between the Dominant and the Submissive._

_FUNDAMENTAL TERMS_

_2 The fundamental purpose of this contract is to allow the Submissive to explore her sensuality and her limits safely, with due respect and regard for her needs, her limits and her wellbeing._

_3 The Dominant and the Submissive agree and acknowledge that all that occurs under the terms of this contract will be consensual, confidential, and subject to the agreed limits and safety procedures set out in this contract. Additional limits and safety procedures may be agreed in writing._

_4 The Dominant and the Submissive each warrant that they suffer from no sexual, serious, infectious or life-threatening illnesses including but not limited to HIV, Herpes and Hepatitis. If during the Term (as defined below) or any extended term of this contract either party should be diagnosed with or become aware of any such illness he or she undertakes to inform the other immediately and in any event prior to any form of physical contact between the parties._

_5 Adherence to the above warranties, agreements and undertakings (and any additional limits and safety procedures agreed under clause 3 above) are fundamental to this contract. Any breach shall render it void with immediate effect and each party agrees to be fully responsible to the other for the consequence of any breach._

_6 Everything in this contract must be read and interpreted in the light of the fundamental purpose and the fundamental terms set out in clauses 2-5 above._

_ROLES_

_7 The Dominant shall take responsibility for the wellbeing and the proper training, guidance, and discipline of the Submissive. He shall decide the nature of such training, guidance, and discipline and the time and place of its administration, subject to the agreed terms, limitations and safety procedures set out in this contract or agreed additionally under clause 3 above._

_8 If at any time the Dominant should fail to keep to the agreed terms, limitations and safety procedures set out in this contract or agreed additionally under clause 3 above the Submissive is entitled to terminate this contract forthwith and to leave the service of the Dominant without notice._

_9 Subject to that proviso and to clauses 2-5 above the Submissive is to serve and obey the Dominant in all things. Subject to the agreed terms, limitations and safety procedures set out in this contract or agreed additionally under clause 3 above she shall without query or hesitation offer the Dominant such pleasure as he may require and she shall accept without query or hesitation his training, guidance and discipline in whatever form it may take._

_COMMENCEMENT AND TERM_

_10 The Dominant and Submissive enter into this contract on The Commencement Date fully aware of its nature and undertake to abide by its conditions without exception._

_11 This contract shall be effective for a period of three Calendar Months from The Commencement Date ("The Term"). On the expiry of The Term the parties shall discuss whether this contract and the arrangements they have made under this contract are satisfactory and whether the needs of each party have been met. Either party may propose the extension of this contract subject to adjustments to its terms, or to the arrangements they have made under it. In the absence of agreement to such extension this contract shall terminate and both parties shall be free to resume their lives separately._

_AVAILABILITY_

_12 The Submissive will make herself available to the Dominant from Friday evenings through to Sunday afternoons each week during the Term at times to be specified by the Dominant ("the Allotted Times"). Further allocated time can be mutually agreed on an ad hoc basis._

_13 The Dominant reserves the right to dismiss the Submissive from his service at any time and for any reason. The Submissive may request her release at any time, such request to be granted at the discretion of the Dominant subject only to the Submissive's rights under clauses 2-5 and 8 above._

_LOCATION_

_14 The Submissive will make herself available during the Allotted Times and agreed additional times at locations to be determined by the Dominant. The Dominant will ensure that all travel costs incurred by the Submissive for that purpose are met by the Dominant._

_SERVICE PROVISIONS_

_15 The following service provisions have been discussed and agreed and will be adhered to by both parties during the Term. Both parties accept that certain matters may arise which are not covered by the terms of this contract or the service provisions, or that certain matters may be renegotiated. In such circumstance further clauses may be proposed by way of amendment. Any further clauses or amendments must be agreed, documented and signed by both parties and shall be subject to the fundamental terms set out at clauses 2-5 above._

_DOMINANT_

_15.1 The Dominant shall make the Submissive's health and safety a priority at all times. The Dominant shall not at any time require, request, allow or demand the Submissive to participate at the hands of the Dominant in the activities detailed in Appendix 2 or in any act that either party deems to be unsafe. The Dominant will not undertake or permit to be undertaken any action which could cause serious injury or any risk to the Submissive's life. The remaining sub-clauses of this clause 15 are to be read subject to this proviso and to the fundamental matters agreed in clauses 2-5 above._

_15.2 The Dominant accepts the Submissive as his, to own, control, dominate and discipline during the Term. The Dominant may use the Submissive's body at any time during the Allotted Times or any agreed additional times in any manner he deems fit, sexually or otherwise._

_15.3 The Dominant shall provide the Submissive with all necessary training and guidance in how to properly serve the Dominant._

_15.4 The Dominant shall maintain a stable and safe environment in which the Submissive may perform her duties in service of the Dominant._

_15.5 The Dominant may discipline the Submissive as necessary to ensure the Submissive fully appreciates her role of subservience to the Dominant and to discourage unacceptable conduct. The Dominant may flog, spank, whip or corporally punish the Submissive as he sees fit, for purposes of discipline, for his own personal enjoyment, or for any other reason, which he is not obliged to provide._

_15.6 In training and in the administration of discipline the Dominant shall ensure that no permanent marks are made upon the Submissive's body nor any injuries incurred that may require medical attention._

_15.7 In training and in the administration of discipline the Dominant shall ensure that the discipline and the instruments used for the purposes of discipline are safe, shall not be used in such a way as to cause serious harm and shall not in any way exceed the limits defined and detailed in this contract._

_15.8 In case of illness or injury the Dominant shall care for the Submissive, seeing to her health and safety, encouraging and when necessary ordering medical attention when it is judged necessary by the Dominant._

_15.9 The Dominant shall maintain his own good health and seek medical attention when necessary in order to maintain a risk-free environment_

_15.10 The Dominant shall not loan his Submissive to another Dominant._

_15.11 The Dominant may restrain, handcuff, or bind the Submissive at any time during the Allotted Times or any agreed additional times for any reason and for extended periods of time, giving due regard to the health and safety of the Submissive._

_15.12 The Dominant will ensure that all equipment used for the purposes of training and discipline shall be maintained in a clean, hygienic and safe state at all times._

_SUBMISSIVE_

_15.13 The Submissive accepts the Dominant as her master, with the understanding that she is now the property of the Dominant, to be dealt with as the Dominant pleases during the Term generally but specifically during the Allotted Times and any additional agreed allotted times._

_15.14 The Submissive shall obey the rules ("the Rules") set out in Appendix 1 to this agreement._

_15.15 The Submissive shall serve the Dominant in any way the Dominant sees fit and shall endeavor to please the Dominant at all times to the best of her ability._

_15.16 The Submissive shall take all measures necessary to maintain her good health and shall request or seek medical attention whenever it is needed, keeping the Dominant informed at all times of any health issues that may arise._

_15.17 The Submissive will ensure that she procures oral contraception and ensure that she takes it as and when prescribed to prevent any pregnancy._

_15.18 The Submissive shall accept without question any and all disciplinary actions deemed necessary by the Dominant and remember her status and role in regard to the Dominant at all times._

_15.19 The Submissive shall not touch or pleasure herself sexually without permission from the Dominant._

_15.20 The Submissive shall submit to any sexual activity demanded by the Dominant and shall do without hesitation or argument._

_15.21 The Submissive shall accept whippings, floggings, spankings, caning, paddling or any other discipline the Dominant should decide to administer, without hesitation, enquiry or complaint._

_15.22 The Submissive shall not look directly into the eyes of the Dominant except when specifically instructed to do so. The Submissive shall keep her eyes cast down and maintain a quiet and respectful bearing in the presence of the Dominant._

_15.23 The Submissive shall always conduct herself in a respectful manner to the Dominant and shall address him only as Sir, Mr. Kurosaki, or such other title as the Dominant may direct._

_15.24 The Submissive will not touch the Dominant without his express permission to do so._

_ACTIVITIES_

_16 The Submissive shall not participate in activities or any sexual acts that either party deems to be unsafe or any activities detailed in Appendix 2._

_17 The Dominant and the Submissive have discussed the activities set out in Appendix 3 and recorded in writing on Appendix 3 their agreement in respect of them._

_SAFEWORDS_

_18 The Dominant and the Submissive recognize that the Dominant may make demands of the Submissive that cannot be met without incurring physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, or other harm at the time the demands are made to the Submissive. In such circumstances related to this, the Submissive may make use of a safeword ("The Safeword (s)"). Two Safewords will be invoked depending on the severity of the demands._

_19 The Safeword "Yellow" will be used to bring to the attention of the Dominant that the Submissive is close to her limit of endurance._

_20 The Safeword "Red" will be used to bring to the attention of the Dominant that the Submissive cannot tolerate any further demands. When this word is said the Dominant's action will cease completely with immediate effect._

_CONCLUSION_

_21 We the undersigned have read and understood fully the provisions of this contract. We freely accept the terms of this contract and have acknowledged this by our signatures below._

_The Dominant:_

_Date_

_The Submissive:_

_Date_

_APPENDIX 1_

_RULES_

_Obedience:_

_The Submissive will obey any instructions given by the Dominant immediately without hesitation or reservation and in an expeditious manner. The Submissive will agree to any sexual activity deemed fit and pleasurable by the Dominant excepting those activities which are outlined in hard limits (Appendix 2). She will do so eagerly and without hesitation._

_Sleep:_

_The Submissive will ensure she achieves a minimum of eight hours sleep a night when she is not with the Dominant._

_Food:_

_The Submissive will eat regularly to maintain her health and wellbeing from a prescribed list of foods (Appendix 4). The Submissive will not snack between meals, with the exception of fruit._

_Clothes:_

_During the Term the Submissive will wear clothing only approved by the Dominant. The Dominant will provide a clothing budget for the Submissive, which the Submissive shall utilize. The Dominant shall accompany the Submissive to purchase clothing on an ad hoc basis. If the Dominant so requires the Submissive shall during the Term wear adornments the Dominant shall require, in the presence of the Dominant and any other time the Dominant deems fit._

_Exercise:_

_The Dominant shall provide the Submissive with a personal trainer four times a week in hour-long sessions at times to be mutually agreed between the personal trainer and the Submissive. The personal trainer will report to the Dominant on the Submissive's progress._

_Personal Hygiene/Beauty:_

_The Submissive will keep herself clean and shaved and/or waxed at all times. The Submissive will visit a beauty salon of the Dominant's choosing at times to be decided by the Dominant, and undergo whatever treatments the Dominant sees fit. All costs will be met by the Dominant._

_Personal Safety:_

_The Submissive will not drink to excess, smoke, take recreational drugs or put herself in any unnecessary danger._

_Personal Qualities:_

_The Submissive will not enter into any sexual relations with anyone other than the Dominant. The Submissive will conduct herself in a respectful and modest manner at all times. She must recognize that her behavior is a direct reflection on the Dominant. She shall be held accountable for any misdeeds, wrongdoings and misbehavior committed when not in the presence of the Dominant._

_Failure to comply with any of the above will result in immediate punishment, the nature of which shall be determined by the Dominant._

_APPENDIX 2_

_Hard Limits_

_No acts involving fire play_

_No acts involving urination or defecation and the products thereof_

_No acts involving needles, knives, cutting, piercing, or blood_

_No acts involving gynecological medical instruments_

_No acts involving children or animals_

_No acts that will leave any permanent marks on the skin_

_No acts involving breath control._

_No activity that involves the direct contact of electric current (whether alternating or direct), fire or flames to the body._

_APPENDIX 3_

_Soft Limits_

_To be discussed and agreed between both parties:_

_Which of the following sexual acts are acceptable to the Submissive?_

_• Masturbation_

_• Fellatio_

_• Cunnilingus_

_• Vaginal intercourse_

_• Vaginal fisting_

_• Anal intercourse_

_• Anal fisting_

_Is swallowing semen acceptable to the Submissive?_

_Is the use of sex toys acceptable to the Submissive?_

_• Vibrators_

_• Dildos_

_• Butt Plugs_

_• Other_

_Is Bondage acceptable to the Submissive?_

_• Hands in front_

_• Hands behind back_

_• Ankles_

_• Knees_

_• Elbows_

_• Wrists to ankles_

_• Spreader bars_

_• Tied to furniture_

_• Blindfolding_

_• Gagging_

_• Bondage with Rope_

_• Bondage with Tape_

_• Bondage with leather cuffs_

_• Suspension_

_• Bondage with handcuffs/metal restraints_

_What is the Submissive's general attitude about receiving pain? Where 1 is likes intensely and 5 is dislikes intensely: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5_

_How much pain does the submissive want to receive? Where 1 is none and 5 is severe: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5_

_Which of the following types of pain/punishment/discipline are acceptable to the Submissive?_

_• Spanking_

_• Paddling_

_• Whipping_

_• Caning_

_• Biting_

_• Nipple clamps_

_• Genital clamps_

_• Ice_

_• Hot wax_

_• Other types/methods of pain_


	10. Chapter 10

**Title**: 50 Shades of Kurosaki

**WARNINGS**: This story is for mature individuals _**NOT FOR ANYONE UNDERAGE**_. I do not write to corrupt young curious children. If you are underage leave this story NOW! Now that's out of the way. This story is OOC and AU (sorry). This is also a kinky love story.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing! Tite Kubo owns the rights for bleach and E. L. James owns 50 Shades Trilogy.

**A/N:** _Hello everyone_ _and thank you for the reviews. I really like getting reviews, comments or questions._

_ I am completely insane. I can't believe I have decided to post 3 chapters in one day. Well like I have said before I always write ahead a couple of chapters so why not just post them. _

_I know that the contract had a few of you totally shocked and that was to be expected. I was told not to sugar coat it so I did not. It was very blunt and straight to the point. If I offended anyone I'm sorry. I was just making sure that all of you that read it completely understood what Orihime is thinking about getting in to._

_ Now the question is does she? What do you guys think? Ichigo has a lot of first...will he give in? That is the question. _

_Also this is a long chapter I thought about splitting into two but I figured my mob fans may come after me so it is what it is. _

_ I still like to personally thank SourxApples and Captain Levi, you guys are the best. Please check out their stories._

* * *

Holy Fuck. I can't bring myself to even consider the food list. I swallow hard, my mouth dry, and read it again.

My head is buzzing. How can I possibly agree to all this? And apparently it's for my benefit, _to explore my sensuality, my limits – safely – _oh please! I scoff angrily.

_Serve and obey in all things. _All Things! I shake my head in disbelief. Actually, doesn't the marriage ceremony use those words… _obey? _This throws me. Do couples still say that?

Only three months, is that why there have been so many? He doesn't keep them for long? Or have they had enough after three months? _Every weekend? _That's too much.

I'll never see Rukia or whatever friends I may make at my new job – provided I get one. Perhaps I should have one weekend a month to myself. Perhaps when I have my period, that sounds… practical. He's my master! To be dealt with as he pleases! _Holy shit._

I shudder at the thought of being flogged or whipped. Spanking probably wouldn't be so bad, humiliating though. And tied up? Well he did tie my hands together. That was… well it was hot, really hot, so perhaps that won't be so bad.

He won't loan me to another Dominant – damn right he won't. That would be totally unacceptable. _Why am I even thinking about this?_

I can't look him in the eye. _How weird is that? _The only way I ever have any chance to see what he's thinking.

Actually, whom am I kidding, I never know what he's thinking, but I like looking into his eyes. He has beautiful eyes – captivating, intelligent, deep and smoldering with dominant secrets. I recall his burning smoky gaze and press my thighs together, squirming.

And I can't touch him. Well, no surprise there. And these silly rules… No, no I can't do this. I put my head in my hands. This is no way to have a relationship.

I need some sleep. I'm shattered. All the physical shenanigans I've been engaged in over the last twenty-four hours have been, frankly, exhausting.

And mentally… oh man, this is so much to take on board. As Uryū would say, a real mind-fuck. Perhaps in the morning, this might not read like a bad joke.

I scramble up and change quickly. Perhaps I should borrow Rukia's pink chappy flannel pajamas. I want something cuddly and reassuring around me. I head to the bathroom in my t-shirt and sleep shorts and brush my teeth.

I stare at myself in the bathroom mirror. _You can't seriously be considering this_…_._

The only man I've ever been attracted to, and he comes with a bloody contract, a flogger, and a whole world of issues. Well, at least I got my way this weekend. _Oh yes_… I flush at the memory of his hands and his mouth on me, his body inside mine.

Closing my eyes, I feel the familiar delicious pull of my muscles from deep, deep down. I want to do that again and again. Maybe if I just sign up for the sex… would he go with that? I suspect not.

Am I submissive? Maybe I come across that way. Maybe I misled him in the interview. I'm shy, yes… but submissive? I let Rukia bully me – is that the same? And those soft limits, jeez. My mind boggles, but I'm reassured that they are up for discussion.

I wander back to my bedroom. This is too much to think about. I need a clear head – a fresh morning approach to the problem. I put the offending documents back in my satchel.

Tomorrow… tomorrow is another day. Clambering into bed, I switch off the light and lie staring up at the ceiling. Oh, I wish I'd never met him. I know it's a lie. I have never felt as alive as I do now.

I close my eyes, and I drift into a heavy sleep.

* * *

Rukia wakes me the next day.

"Orihime, I've been calling you. You must have been out cold."

My eyes reluctantly open. She's not just up – she's been for a run. I glance at my alarm. It's eight in the morning. Holy Moses, I've slept for a solid nine hours.

"What is it?" I mumble sleepily.

"There's a man here with a delivery for you. You have to sign for it."

"What?"

"Come on. It's big. It looks interesting."

She hops from foot to foot excitedly and bounds back into the living area. I clamber out of bed and grab my robe hanging on the back of my door.

A smart young man with a ponytail is standing in our living room clasping a large box.

"Hi," I mumble.

"I'll make you some tea." Rukia scuttles off to the kitchen.

"Miss Inoue?"

And I immediately know whom the parcel is from.

"Yes," I answer cautiously.

"I have a package for you here."

"Really? At this time?"

"Only following orders, ma'am." He smiles in a charming but professional he's-not-taking-any-crap way.

_Did he just call me ma'am? _Have I aged ten years overnight? If I have, it's that con tract. My mouth puckers in disgust.

"Okay, what is it?"

"It's a MacBook Pro."

"Of course it is." I roll my eyes_._

"These aren't available in the shops yet, ma'am, the very latest from Apple."

How come that does not surprise me? I sigh heavily.

"Just set it up on the dining table over there."

I wander into the kitchen to join Rukia.

"What is it?" she says inquisitive, bright eyed and bushy tailed. She's slept well too.

"It's a laptop from Ichigo."

"Why's he sent you a laptop? You know you can use mine," she frowns.

_Not for what he has in mind._

"Oh, it's only on loan. He wanted me to try it out." My excuse sounds feeble. But Rukia nods her assent. _Oh my_… I have hoodwinked Rukia Kuchiki. A first. She hands me my tea.

The Mac laptop is sleek and silver and rather beautiful. It has a very large screen.

"It's got the latest OS and a full suite of programs, plus a one-point-five terabyte hard drive so you'll have plenty of room, thirty-two gigs of RAM – what are you planning to use it for?"

"Uh… email."

"Email!" he chokes, raising his eyebrows with a slightly sick look on his face.

"And maybe Internet research?" I shrug apologetically.

He sighs.

"Well, this has full wireless N, and I've set it up with your Me account details. This baby is all ready to go, practically anywhere on the planet." He looks longingly at it.

"Me account?"

"Your new email address._"_

_I have an email address?_

He points to an icon on the screen and continues to talk at me but it's like white noise. I haven't got a clue what he's saying, and in all honestly, I'm not interested.

_Just tell me how to switch it on and off _– I'll figure out the rest. After all, I've been using Rukia's for four years.

Rukia whistles, impressed when she sees it.

"This is next-generation tech." She raises her eyebrows at me.

"Most women get flowers or maybe jewelry," she says suggestively, trying to suppress a smile.

I scowl at her but can't keep a straight face. We both burst into a fit of giggles, and computer man gapes at us, bemused.

He finishes up and asks me to sign the delivery note. As Rukia shows him out, I sit with my cup of tea, open the email program, and sitting there waiting for me is an email from Ichigo.

My heart leaps into my mouth. _I have an email from Ichigo Kurosaki. _Nervously, I open it.

**From: **Ichigo Kurosaki

**Subject: **Your New Computer

**Date: **May 22 2013 23:15

**To: **Orihime Inoue

Dear Miss Inoue trust you slept well. I hope that you put this laptop to good use, as discussed. I look forward to dinner, Wednesday. Happy to answer any questions before then, via email, should you so desire.

Ichigo Kurosaki CEO, Kurosaki Enterprises Holdings Inc.

I hit reply.

**From: **Orihime Inoue

**Subject: **Your New Computer (on loan)

Date: May 23 2013 08:20

**To: **Ichigo Kurosaki

I slept very well thank you – for some strange reason – Sir. I understood that this computer was on loan, ergo not mine.

Orihime

Almost instantaneously there is a response.

**From: **Ichigo Kurosaki

**Subject: **Your New Computer (on loan)

**Date: **May 23 2013 08:22

**To: **Orihime Inoue

The computer is on loan. Indefinitely, Miss Inoue. I note from your tone that you have read the documentation I gave you. Do you have any questions so far?

Ichigo Kurosaki CEO, Kurosaki Enterprises Holdings Inc.

I can't help but grin.

**From: **Orihime Inoue

**Subject: **Enquiring Minds

**Date: **May 23 2013 08:25

**To: **Ichigo Kurosaki

I have many questions, but not suitable for email, and some of us have to work for a liv ing. I do not want or need a computer indefinitely. Until later, good day. _Sir. _

Orihime

His reply again is instant, and it makes me smile.

**From: **Ichigo Kurosaki

**Subject: **Your New Computer (again on loan)

**Date: **May 23 2013 08:26

**To: **Orihime Inoue

Laters, baby. PS: I work for a living too.

Ichigo Kurosaki CEO, Kurosaki Enterprises Holdings Inc.

I shut the computer down, grinning like an idiot. How can I resist playful Ichigo? I am going to be late for work.

Well, it is my last week – Mr. and Mrs. Asano will probably cut me some slack. _He emailed me. _I'm like a small, giddy child. And all the contract angst fades.

I try and think what I could possibly ask him via email. Surely it's better to talk these things through. Suppose someone hacked into his account? I flush at the thought.

I dress quickly, shout a hasty goodbye to Rukia, and I'm off to work my last week at Asano's.

* * *

Uryū phones at eleven. "Hey, are we doing coffee?" He sounds like the old Uryū. Uryū my friend, not a – what did Ichigo call him? Suitor. Ugh.

"Sure. I'm at work. Can you make it here for say twelve?"

"See you then."

He hangs up, and I go back to restocking the paintbrushes and thinking about Ichigo Kurosaki and his contract.

* * *

Uryū is punctual. He comes bounding into the shop like a dark-eyed puppy.

"Orihime," he smiles his dazzling toothy smile, and I can't be angry with him anymore.

"Hi Uryū." I hug him. "I'm starving. I'll just let Mrs. Asano know I'm going for lunch."

As we stroll to the local coffee shop, I slip my arm through Uryū's. I'm so grateful for his – normality. Someone I know and understand.

"Hey Orihime," he murmurs. "You've really forgiven me?"

"Uryū, you know I can never stay mad at you for long."

He grins.

* * *

I can't wait to get home. The lure of emailing Ichigo, and maybe I can begin my re search project.

Rukia is out somewhere, so I fire up the new laptop and open my email. Sure enough, there's an email from Ichigo sitting in the inbox. I'm practically bouncing out of my seat with glee.

**From: **Ichigo Kurosaki

**Subject: **Working for a living

**Date: **May 23 2013 17:24

**To: **Orihime Inoue

Dear Miss Inoue I do hope you had a good day at work.

Ichigo Kurosaki CEO, Kurosaki Enterprises Holdings Inc.

I hit reply.

**From: **Orihime Inoue

**Subject: **Working for living

**Date: **May 23 2013 17:48

**To: **Ichigo Kurosaki

_Sir_… I had a very good day at work. Thank you.

Orihime

**From: **Ichigo Kurosaki

**Subject: **Do The Work!

**Date: **May 23 2013 17:50

**To: **Orihime Inoue

Miss Inoue Delighted you had a good day. While you are emailing, you are not researching.

Ichigo Kurosaki CEO, Kurosaki Enterprises Holdings Inc.

**From: **Orihime Inoue

**Subject: **Nuisance

**Date: **May 23 2013 17:53

**To: **Ichigo Kurosaki

Mr. Kurosaki, stop emailing me, and I can start my assignment. I'd like another A.

Orihime

I hug myself.

**From: **Ichigo Kurosaki

**Subject: **Impatient

**Date: **May 23 2013 17:55

**To: **Orihimes Inoue

Miss Inoue Stop emailing _me _– and do your assignment. I'd like to award another A. The first one was so well deserved. ;)

Ichigo Kurosaki CEO, Kurosaki Enterprises Holdings Inc.

Ichigo Kurosaki just sent me a winking smiley… _Oh my. _I fire up Google.

**From: **Orihime Inoue

**Subject: **Internet Research

**Date: **May 23 2013 17:59

**To: **Ichigo Kurosaki

Mr. Kurosaki What would you suggest I put into a search engine?

Orihime

**From: **Ichigo Kurosaki

**Subject: **Internet Research

**Date: **May 23 2013 18:02

**To: **Orihime Inoue

Miss Inoue Always start with Wikipedia. No more emails unless you have questions. Understood?

Ichigo Kurosaki CEO, Kurosaki Enterprises Holdings Inc.

**From: **Orihime Inoue

**Subject: **Bossy!

**Date: **May 23 2013 18:04

**To: **Ichigo Kurosaki

Yes… _Sir. _You are so bossy.

Orihime

**From: **Ichigo Kurosaki

**Subject: **In Control

**Date: **May 23 2013 18:06

**To: **Orihime Inoue

Orihime, you have no idea. Well, maybe an inkling now. Do the work.

Ichigo Kurosaki CEO, Kurosaki Enterprises Holdings Inc.

I type Submissive into Wikipedia.

Half an hour later, I feel slight queasy and frankly shocked to my core. Do I really want this stuff in my head? Jeez – is this what he gets up to in the Red Room of Pain?

I sit staring at the screen, and part of me, a very moist and integral part of me – that I've only become acquainted with very recently, is seriously turned on. Oh my, some of this stuff is HOT.

But is it for me? Holy shit… could I do this? I need space. I need to think.

* * *

I pace through the park. What am I going to do? I want him, but on his terms? I just don't know.

Perhaps I should negotiate what I want. Go through that ridiculous contract line by line and say what is acceptable and what isn't. My research has told me that legally it's unenforceable.

He must know that. I figure that it just sets up the parameters of the relationship. It illustrates what I can expect from him and what he expects from me – my total submission. Am I prepared to give him that? Am I even capable?

I am plagued by one question - why is he like this?

Is it because he was seduced at such a young age? I just don't know. He's still such a mystery. I need to email him my thoughts, and then we can discuss these on Wednesday.

I take a deep cleansing breath, then jog back to the apartment.

* * *

Rukia has been shopping, as only she can, for clothes for her holiday to Barbados. Mainly bikinis and matching sarongs. She will look fabulous in all of them, yet she still makes me sit and comment while she tries on each and every one.

There are only so many ways one can say – you look fabulous Rukia. Could I feel any more inadequate?

Taking the awesome free technology with me, I set the laptop up on my desk. I email Ichigo.

**From:** Orihime Inoue

**Subject:** Shocked

**Date:** May 23 2013 20:33

**To:** Ichigo Kurosaki

Okay, I've seen enough.

It was nice knowing you.

Orihime

I press send, hugging myself, laughing at my little joke. Will he find it as funny? Oh shit – probably not.

Ichigo Kurosaki is not famed for his sense of humor. But I know it exists, I've experienced it. Perhaps I've gone too far. I wait for his answer.

I wait… and wait. I glance at my alarm clock. By nine, I've heard nothing. Perhaps he's out. I pout petulantly as I sit down at my small desk to re-read the contract and make my comments.

I don't know why I glance up, maybe I catch a slight movement from the corner of my eye, I don't know, but when I do, he's standing in the doorway of my bedroom watching me intently. Fuck!

"Good evening, Orihime." His voice is cool, his expression completely guarded and unreadable.

Damn Rukia for letting him in here with no warning.

"I felt that your email warranted a reply in person," he explains dryly.

I open my mouth and then close it again, twice. The joke is on me. Never in this or any alternative universe did I expect him to drop everything and turn up here.

"May I sit?" he asks, his eyes now dancing with humor – _thank heavens – maybe he'll see the funny side? _

I nod. The power of speech remains elusive. _Ichigo Kurosaki is sitting on my bed._

"I wondered what your bedroom would look like," he says.

I glance around it, plotting an escape route, no – there's still only the door or window.

"It's very serene and peaceful in here," he murmurs.

_Not at the moment… not with you here._

"Would you like a drink?" Politeness wins out over everything else I'd like to say.

"No, thank you, Orihime." He smiles a dazzling, crooked smile, his head cocked slightly to one side.

Well, I might need one.

"So, it was nice knowing me?"

Holy cow, is he offended? I stare down at my fingers. How am I going to dig myself out of this? If I tell him it was a joke, I don't think he'll be impressed.

"I thought you'd reply by email." My voice is small, pathetic.

"Are you biting your lower lip deliberately?" he asks darkly.

I blink up at him, gasping, freeing my lip.

"I wasn't aware I was biting my lip," I murmur softly.

My heart is pounding.

I can feel that pull, that delicious electricity between us charging, filling the space between us with static.

He's sitting so close to me, his eyes dark, his elbows resting on his knees, his legs apart. Leaning forward, he slowly undoes one of my pigtails, his fingers freeing my hair.

My breathing is shallow, and I can not move. I watch hypnotized as his hand moves to my second pigtail, and pulling the hair tie, he loosens the braid with his long, skilled fingers.

"So you decided on some exercise," he breathes, his voice soft and melodious. His fingers gently tuck my hair behind my ear. "Why, Orihime?" His fingers circle my ear, and very softly, he tugs my earlobe, rhythmically. It's so sexual.

"I needed time to think," I whisper … and he knows exactly what he's doing to me.

"Think about what, Orihime?"

"You."

"And you decided that it was nice knowing me? _Oh shit_. I flush.

His lips arch with a trace of a smile, and my eyes are drawn to his beautiful sculptured mouth.

"Well, I thought I should come and remind you how _nice _it was knowing me."

Holy crap. I stare at him open mouthed, and his fingers move from my ear to my chin.

"What do you say to that, Miss Inoue?"

His dark chocolate eyes blaze at me, his challenge intrinsic in his stare.

His lips are parted – he's waiting, coiled to strike. Desire – acute, liquid and smoldering, com-busts deep in my belly.

I take per-emptive action and launch myself at him.

Somehow he moves, I have no idea how, and in the blink of an eye I'm on the bed pinned beneath him, my arms stretched out and held above my head, his free hand clutching my face, and his mouth finds mine.

His tongue is in my mouth, claiming and possessing me, and I revel in the force he uses. I feel him against the length of my body.

He wants _me_, and this does strange, delicious things to my insides. This beautiful man wants me. He stops kissing me, and opening my eyes, I find him gazing down at me.

"Trust me?" he breathes.

I nod, wide-eyed, my heart bouncing off my ribs, my blood thundering around my body.

He reaches down, and from his pants pocket, he takes out his silver silk tie… _that _silver woven tie that leaves small impressions of its weave on my skin.

He moves so quickly, sitting astride me as he fastens my wrists together, but this time, he ties the other end of the tie to one of the spokes of my headboard.

He pulls at my binding checking it's secure. I'm not going anywhere. I'm tied, literally, to my bed, and I'm so aroused.

He slides off me and stands beside the bed, staring down at me, his eyes dark with want. His look is triumphant, mixed with relief.

"That's better," he murmurs and smiles a wicked, knowing smile. He bends and starts undoing one of my sneakers. Oh no… no… my feet. No. I've just been running.

"No," I protest, trying to kick him off.

He stops.

"If you struggle, I'll tie your feet too. If you make a noise, Orihime, I will gag you. Keep quiet. Rukia is probably outside listening right now."

_Gag me! Rukia! _I shut up.

He removes my shoes and my socks efficiently and slowly peels off my sweat pants.

Oh – _what panties am I wearing? _"Now then." He licks his bottom lip slowly.

"You're biting that lip, Orihime. You know the effect it has on me." He places his long index finger over my mouth, a warning.

_Oh my. _I can barely contain myself, lying helpless, watching him move gracefully around my room. Slowly, almost leisurely, he removes his shoes and socks, undoes his pants, and lifts his shirt off over his head.

"I think you've seen too much," he chuckles slyly.

He sits astride me again, pulls my t-shirt up, and I think he's going to take it off me, but he rolls it up to my neck and then pulls it up over my head so he can see my mouth and my nose, but it covers my eyes.

And because it's folded over – I cannot see a thing through it.

"Mmm," he breathes appreciatively. "This just gets better and better. I'm going to get a drink."

Leaning down, he kisses me, his lips tender against mine, and his weight shifts off the bed. I hear the quiet creak of the bedroom door.

Get a drink. I strain to hear him. I can make out low rumblings, and I know he's talking to Rukia – oh no… _he's practically naked. _What's she going to say? I hear a faint popping sound.

What's that? He returns, the door creaking once more, his feet padding across the bedroom floor, and ice tinkling against glass as it swirls in liquid. What kind of drink?

He shuts the door and shuffles around removing his pants. They drop to the floor, and I know he's naked. He sits astride me again.

"Are you thirsty, Orihime?" he asks, his voice teasing

"Yes," I breathe, because my mouth is suddenly parched. I hear the ice clink against the glass, and he puts it down again and leans down and kisses me, pouring a delicious crisp, liquid into my mouth as he does.

It's white wine. It's so unexpected, _hot_, though it's chilled, and Ichigo's lips are cool.

"More?" he whispers.

I nod. It tastes all the more divine because it's been in _his _mouth. He leans down, and I drink another mouthful from his lips… _oh my._

"Let's not go too far, we know your capacity for alcohol is limited, Orihime."

I can't help it. I grin, and he leans down to deliver another delicious mouthful. "Is this _nice_?" he asks, but I hear the edge in his voice.

I tense. He moves the glass again and leans down, kissing me and depositing a small shard of ice in my mouth with a little wine.

He slowly and leisurely trails chilled kisses down the center of my body, from the base of my throat, between my breasts, down my torso, and to my belly. He pops a fragment of ice in my navel in a pool of cool, cold wine.

It burns all the way down to the depths of my belly. Wow.

"Now you have to keep still," he whispers. "If you move, Orihime, you'll get wine all over the bed."

My hips flex automatically.

"Oh no. If you spill the wine, I will punish you, Miss Inoue."

I groan and desperately fight the urge to tilt my hips, pulling on my restraint. Oh no… _please._

Leaning down, he kisses and tugs at each of my nipples in turn with cool, cold lips. I fight my body as it tries to arch in response.

"How _nice _is this?" he breathes, blowing on one of my nipples.

I hear another clink of ice, and then I can feel it round my right nipple as he tugs the left one with his lips. I moan, struggling not to move. It's sweet, agonizing torture.

"If you spill the wine, I won't let you come,"

"Oh… please… Ichigo… Sir… Please." He's driving me insane. I _hear _him smile.

The ice in my navel is melting. I am beyond warm – warm and chilled and wanting. Wanting him, inside me. Now.

His cool fingers trail languidly across my belly. My skin is oversensitive, my hips flex automatically, and the now warmer liquid from my navel seeps over my belly. Ichigo moves quickly, lapping it up with his tongue, kissing, biting me softly, sucking.

"Oh dear, Orihime, you moved. What am I going to do to you?"

I'm panting loudly. All I can concentrate on is his voice and his touch. Nothing else is real. Nothing else matters, nothing else registers on my radar.

His fingers slip into my panties, and I'm rewarded with his unguarded sharp intake of air.

"Oh, baby," he murmurs and he pushes two fingers inside me.

I gasp.

"Ready for me so soon," he says. He moves his fingers tantalizingly slowly, in, out, and I push against him, tilting my hips up.

"You are a greedy girl," he scolds softly, and his thumb circles my clitoris and then presses down.

I groan loudly as my body bucks beneath his expert fingers. He reaches up and pushes the t-shirt over my head so I can see him as I blink in the soft light of my sidelight. I long to touch him.

"I want to touch you," I breathe.

"I know," he murmurs.

He leans down and kisses me, his fingers still moving rhythmically inside me, his thumb circling and pressing. His other hand scoops my hair off my head and holds my head in place.

His tongue mirrors the actions of his fingers, claiming me. My legs begin to stiffen as I push against his hand. He gentles his hand, so I'm brought back from the brink. He does this again and again. It's so frustrating… _Oh please Ichigo, _I scream in my head.

"This is your punishment, so close and yet so far. Is this _nice_?" he breathes in my ear. I whimper, exhausted, pulling against my restraint. I'm helpless, lost in an erotic torment.

"Please," I beg, and he finally takes pity on me.

"How shall I fuck you, Orihime?"

Oh… my body starts to quiver. He stills again.

"Please."

"What do you want, Orihime?"

"You… now," I cry.

"Shall I fuck you this way, or this way, or this way? There's an endless choice," he breathes against my lips.

He withdraws his hand and reaches over to the bedside table for a foil packet. He kneels up between my legs, and very slowly he pulls my panties off, staring down at me, his eyes gleaming.

He puts on the condom. I watch fascinated, mesmerized.

"How _nice _is this?" he says as he strokes himself.

"I meant it as a joke," I whimper. _Please fuck me, Ichigo._

He raises his eyebrows as his hand moves up and down his impressive length.

"A joke?" His voice is menacingly soft.

"Yes. Please, Ichigo," I plead with him.

"Are you laughing now?"

"No," I whine.

I am just one ball of sexual, tense, need. He stares down at me for a moment, measuring my need, then he grabs me suddenly and flips me over.

It takes me by surprise, and because my hands are tied, I have to support myself on my elbows. He pushes both my knees up the bed so my behind is in the air, and he slaps me hard.

Before I can react, he plunges inside me. I cry out – from the slap and from his sudden assault, and I come instantly again and again, falling apart beneath him as he continues to slam deliciously into me. He doesn't stop.

I'm spent. I can't take this… and he pounds on and on and on... then I'm building again… surely not… no…

"Come on, Orihime, again," he growls through clenched teeth, and unbelievably, my body responds, convulsing around him as I climax anew, calling out his name.

I shatter again into tiny fragments, and Ichigo stills, finally letting go, silently finding his release. He collapses on top of me, breathing hard.

"How _nice _was that?" he asks through his gritted teeth.

_Oh my._

I lie panting and spent on the bed, eyes closed as he slowly pulls out of me. He rises immediately and dresses. When he's fully clothed, he climbs back on the bed and gently undoes his tie and pulls my t-shirt off.

I flex my fingers and rub my wrists, smiling at the woven pattern imprinted on my wrists from the tie.

"That was really nice," I whisper, smiling.

"There's that word again."

"You don't like that word?"

"No. It doesn't do it for me at all."

"Oh – I don't know… it seems to have a very beneficial effect on you."

"I'm a beneficial effect, now am I? Could you wound my ego any further, Miss Inoue?"

"I don't think there's anything wrong with your ego."

"You think?" His voice is soft. He's lying beside me, fully clothed, his head propped up on his elbow, and I am only wearing my bra.

"Why don't you like to be touched?"

"I just don't." He reaches over and plants a soft kiss on my forehead. "So, that email was your idea of a joke."

I smile apologetically at him and shrug.

"I see. So you are still considering my proposition?"

"Your indecent proposal… yes I am. I have issues though."

He grins down at me as if relieved.

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't."

"I was going to email them to you, but you kind of interrupted me."

"Coitus Interruptus."

"See, I knew you had a sense of humor somewhere in there." I smile.

"Only certain things are funny, Orihime. I thought you were saying no, no discussion at all." His voice drops.

"I don't know yet. I haven't made up my mind. Will you collar me?"

He raises his eyebrows.

"You have been doing your research. I don't know, Orihime. I've never collared anyone."

Oh… should I be surprised by this? I know so little about _the scene_… I don't know.

"Were you collared?" I whisper.

"Yes."

"By Mrs. Robinson?"

"Mrs. Robinson!" he laughs loudly, freely, and he looks so young and carefree, his head thrown back, his laughter infectious.

I grin back at him.

"I'll tell her you said that, she'll love it."

"You still talk to her regularly?" I can't keep the shock out of my voice.

"Yes." He's serious now.

Oh… and part of me is suddenly insanely jealous – I'm disturbed by the depth of my feeling.

"I see." My voice is tight. "So you have someone you can discuss your alternative lifestyle with, but I'm not allowed."

He frowns.

"I don't think I've ever thought about it like that. Mrs. Robinson was part of that life style. I told you, she's a good friend now.

If you'd like, I can introduce you to one of my former subs, you could talk to her."

_What? Is he deliberately trying to upset me?_

"Is this _your _idea of a joke?

"No, Orihime." He's bemused as he shakes his head earnestly.

"No – I'll do this on my own, thank you very much," I snap at him, pulling the duvet up to my chin.

He stares at me, surprised.

"Orihime, I… " He's lost for words. A first, I think. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"I'm not offended. I'm appalled."

"Appalled?"

"I don't want to talk to one of your ex-girlfriends… slave… sub… whatever you call them."

"Orihime Inoue – are you jealous?"

I flush, crimson.

"Are you staying?"

"I have a breakfast meeting tomorrow. Besides, I told you, I don't sleep with girlfriends, slaves, subs, or anyone. Friday and Saturday night were exceptions. It won't happen again." I can hear the resolve behind his soft, husky voice.

I purse my lips at him.

"Well I'm tired now."

"Are you kicking me out?" He raises his eyebrows at me, amused and a little dismayed.

"Yes."

"Well that's another first." He eyes me speculatively. "So nothing you want to discuss now? About the contract."

"No." I reply petulantly.

"God, I'd like to give you a good hiding. You'd feel a lot better, and so would I."

"You can't say things like that… I haven't signed anything yet."

"A man can dream, Orihime." He leans over me and grasps my chin. "Wednesday?" he murmurs, and he kisses me lightly on my lips.

"Wednesday," I agree. "I'll see you out. If you give me a minute." I sit up and grab my t-shirt, pushing him out of the way. Amused and reluctant, he gets up off the bed.

"Please pass me my sweat pants."

He collects them from the floor and hands them to me.

"Yes, ma'am." He's trying unsuccessfully to hide his smile.

I narrow my eyes at him as I slip the pants on. My hair is a state, and I know I'll have to face the Rukia Kuchiki Inquisition after he's gone.

Grabbing a hair tie, I walk to my bedroom door, opening it slightly checking for Rukia. She is not in the living area. I think I can hear her on the phone in her room.

Ichigo follows me out.

During the short walk from bedroom to front door, my thoughts and feelings flow, transforming. I'm no longer angry with him, I feel suddenly unbearably shy. I don't want him to go.

For the first time, I'm wishing he was – _normal _– wanting a normal relationship that doesn't need a ten-page agreement, a flogger, and karabiners in his playroom ceiling.

I open the door for him and stare down at my hands. This is the first time I have ever had sex in my home, and as sex goes, I think it was pretty damn fine.

But now I feel like a receptacle – an empty vessel to be filled at his whim. Ichigo stops in the doorway and clasps my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. His brow creases slightly.

"You okay?" he asks tenderly as his thumb lightly caresses my bottom lip.

"Yes." I reply, though in all honesty I'm just not sure. I feel a paradigm shift. I know that if I do this thing with him, I will get hurt. He's not capable, interested, or willing to offer me any more… and I want more. _Much more. _

The surge of jealousy I felt only moments ago tells me that I have deeper feelings for him than I have admitted to myself.

"Wednesday," he confirms, and he leans forward and kisses me softly. Something changes while he's kissing me, his lips grow more urgent against mine, his hand moves up from my chin and he's holding the side of my head, his other hand on the other side.

His breathing accelerates. He deepens the kiss, leaning into me. I put my hands on his arms. I want to run them through his hair, but I resist, knowing that he won't like it. He leans his forehead against mine, his eyes closed, his voice strained.

"Orihime," he whispers. "What are you doing to me?"

"I could say the same to you," I whisper back.

Taking a deep breath, he kisses my forehead and leaves. He strolls purposefully down the path towards his car as he runs his hand through his hair.

Glancing up as he opens his car door, he smiles his breathtaking smile. My answering smile is weak, completely dazzled by him. I close the front door as he climbs into his sporty car.

I have an overwhelming urge to cry, a sad and lonely melancholy grips and tightens round my heart. Dashing back to my bedroom, I close the door and lean against it trying to rationalize my feelings.

I can't. Sliding to the floor, I put my head in my hands as my tears begin to flow.

Rukia knocks gently.

"Orihime?" she whispers. I open the door. She takes one look at me and throws her arms around me.

"What's wrong? What did that creepy good-looking bastard do?"

"Oh Rukia, nothing I didn't want him to."

She pulls me to my bed and we sit.

"You have dreadful sex hair."

In spite of my poignant sadness, I laugh.

"It was good sex, not dreadful at all."

Rukia smiles.

"That's better. Why are you crying? You never cry." She retrieves my brush from the side table, and sitting behind me, very slowly starts brushing out the knots.

"I just don't think our relationship is going to go anywhere." I stare down at my fingers.

"I thought you said you were going to see him on Wednesday?"

"I am, that was our original plan."

"So, why did he turn up here today?"

"I sent him an email."

"Asking him to drop by?"

"No, saying I didn't want to see him anymore."

"And he turns up? Orihime, that's genius."

"Actually it was a joke."

"Oh. Now I'm really confused."

Patiently, I explain the essence of my email without giving anything away.

"So you thought he'd reply by email."

"Yes."

"But instead he turns up here."

"Yes."

"I'd say he's completely smitten with you."

I frown. _Ichigo, smitten with me? Hardly. _He's just looking for a new toy – a convenient new toy that he can bed and do unspeakable things to. My heart tightens painfully. This is the reality.

"He came here to fuck me, that's all."

"Who said romance was dead?" she whispers horrified. I've shocked Rukia. I didn't think that was possible. I shrug apologetically.

"He uses sex as a weapon."

"Fuck you into submission?" She shakes her head disapprovingly. I blink rapidly at her, and I can feel the blush as it spreads across my face. _Oh… spot on, Rukia. Rukia Kuchiki, Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist._

"Orihime, I don't understand, you just let him make love to you?"

"No, Rukia, we don't make love – we fuck – Ichigo's terminology. He doesn't do the love thing."

"I knew there was something weird about him. He has commitment issues."

I nod, as if in agreement. Inwardly, I pine. Oh Rukia... I wish I could tell you every thing, everything about this strange, sad, kinky guy, and you could tell me to forget about him. Stop me from being a fool.

"I guess it's all a little overwhelming," I murmur. _That's the understatement of the year._

Because I don't want to talk about Ichigo any more, I ask her about Renji. Rukia's whole demeanor changes at the mere mention of his name, she lights up from within, beaming at me.

"He's coming over early Saturday to help load up." She hugs the hairbrush, boy has she got it bad, and I feel a familiar faint stab of envy. Rukia has found herself a normal man, and she looks so happy.

I turn and hug her.

"Oh, I meant to say. Your dad called while you were… err, occupied. Apparently Gin has sustained some injury, so your mom and he can't make graduation. But your dad will be here Thursday. He wants you to call."

"Oh... my mom never called me. Is Gin okay?"

"Yes. Call her in the morning. It's late now."

"Thanks, Rukia. I'm okay now. I'll call Shunsui in the morning too. I think I'll just turn in."

She smiles, but her eyes crinkle at the corners with concern.

After she's gone, I sit and read the contract again, making more notes as I go. When I've finished, I fire up the laptop, ready to respond.

There's an email from Ichigo in my inbox.

**From: **Ichigo Kurosaki

**Subject: **This evening

**Date: **May 23 2013 23:16

**To: **Orihime Inoue

Miss Inoue I look forward to receiving your notes on the contract. Until then, sleep well baby.

Ichigo Kurosaki CEO, Kurosaki Enterprises Holdings Inc.

**From: **Orihime Inoue

**Subject: **Issues

**Date: **May 24 2013 00:02

**To: **Ichigo Kurosaki

Dear Mr. Kurosaki Here is my list of issues. I look forward to discussing them more fully at dinner on Wednesday.

The numbers refer to clauses:

2: Not sure why this is solely for MY benefit – ie to explore MY sensuality and limits. I'm sure I wouldn't need a ten-page contract to do that! Surely this is for YOUR benefit.

4: As you are aware you are my only sexual partner. I don't take drugs, and I've not had any blood transfusions. I'm probably safe. What about you?

8: I can terminate at any time if I don't think you're sticking to the agreed limits. Okay – I like this.

9: Obey you in all things? Accept without hesitation your discipline? We need to talk about this.

11: One month trial period. Not three.

12: I cannot commit every weekend. I do have a life, or will have. Perhaps three out of four?

15.2: Using my body as you see fit sexually or otherwise – please define "or otherwise."

15.5: This whole discipline clause. I'm not sure I want to be whipped, flogged, or corpo rally punished. I am sure this would be in breach of clauses 2-5. And also "for any other reason". That's just mean – and you told me you weren't a sadist.

15.10: Like loaning me out to someone else would ever be an option. But I'm glad it's here in black and white.

15.14: The Rules. More on those later.

15.19: Touching myself without your permission. What's the problem with this? You know I don't do it anyway.

15.21: Discipline – Please see clause 15.5 above.

15.22: I can't look into your eyes? Why?

15.24: Why can't I touch you?

Rules:Sleep – I'll agree to 6 hours.

Food – I am not eating food from a prescribed list. The food list goes or I do – Deal breaker.

Clothes – as long as I only have to wear your clothes when I'm with you... okay.

Exercise – We agreed 3 hours, this still says

Limits: Can we go through all of these? No Fisting of any kind. What is suspension? Genital Clamps – you have got to be kidding me.

Can you please let me know the arrangements for Wednesday? I am working until 5pm that day.

Good night.

Orihime

**From: **Ichigo Kurosaki

**Subject: **This evening

**Date: **May 24 2013 00:07

**To: **Orihime Inoue

Miss Inoue That's a long list. Why are you still up?

Ichigo Kurosaki CEO, Kurosaki Enterprises Holdings Inc.

**From: **Orihime Inoue

**Subject: **Burning the midnight oil

**Date: **May 24 2013 00:10

**To: **Ichigo Kurosaki

Sir If you recall I was going through this list, when I was distracted and bedded by a passing control freak. Goodnight.

Orihime

**From: **Ichigo Kurosaki

**Subject: **Stop Burning the midnight oil

**Date: **May 24 2013 00:12

**To: **Orihime Inoue

GO TO BED ORIHIME.

Ichigo Kurosaki CEO & Control Freak, Kurosaki Enterprises Holdings Inc.

_Oh… shouty capitals! _I switch off. How can he intimidate me when he's six miles away? I shake my head. My heart still heavy, I climb into bed and fall instantly into a deep but troubled sleep.

* * *

**_Well what did you guys think. Emails...have to love them. I don't think I would complain with a punishment like that. OH HELL NO! If you guys are wanting another chapter out of me this week then please let me know if not then I will see you guys next week before Christmas. Gwen-chan out!_**


	11. Chapter 11

**Title**: 50 Shades of Kurosaki

**WARNINGS**: This story is for mature individuals _**NOT FOR ANYONE UNDERAGE**_. I do not write to corrupt young curious children. If you are underage leave this story NOW! Now that's out of the way. This story is OOC and AU (sorry). This is also a kinky love story.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing! Tite Kubo owns the rights for bleach and E. L. James owns 50 Shades Trilogy.

**A/N:** _Hello everyone_ _and thank you for the reviews and very interesting PM. Some of these were real HOT! I really like getting reviews, comments or questions. I still like to personally thank SourxApples and Captain Levi, you guys are the best. Please check out their stories. Apples I'm still tapping my foot lol 3. Enjoy!_

* * *

**THE DATE TWO DAYS LATER**

I have to drive in my bare feet – Wanda, my sea-blue Beetle, wasn't built to be driven by stiletto-wearers. I pull up outside the hotel at six-fifty-eight precisely and hand my car keys to the valet for parking.

He looks shocked at my Beetle, but I ignore him. Taking a deep breath I head into the hotel.

Ichigo is leaning casually against the bar, drinking a glass of white wine. He's dressed in his customary white linen shirt, black jeans, black tie, and black jacket. His hair is as tousled as ever.

I sigh. I stand for a few seconds in the entrance of the bar, gazing at him, admiring the view. He glances, nervously I think, toward the entrance and stills when he sees me.

Blinking a couple of times, he then smiles a slow, lazy, sexy smile that renders me speechless and all molten inside. Making a supreme effort not to bite my lip, I move forward aware that I, Orihime Inoue of Clumsyville, am in high stilettos.

He walks gracefully over to meet me. "You look stunning," he murmurs as he leans down to briefly kiss my cheek. "A dress, Miss Inoue. I approve." Taking my arm, he leads me to a secluded booth and signals for the waiter.

"What would you like to drink?"

My lips quirk up in a quick, sly smile as I sit and slide into the booth – well, at least he's asking me.

"I'll have what you're having, please." See! I can play nice and behave myself. Amused, he orders another glass of Sancerre and slides in opposite me.

Putting his elbows on the table, he steeples his fingers in front of his beautiful mouth, his chocolate eyes alive with some unreadable emotion.

And there it is… that familiar pull and charge from him, it connects somewhere deep inside me. I shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny, my heart palpitating. I must keep my cool.

"Are you nervous?" he asks softly.

"Yes."

He leans forward.

"Me too," he whispers. My eyes shoot up to meet his. _Him. Nervous. Never. _I blink at him, and he smiles his adorable lopsided smile at me. The waiter arrives with my wine, a small dish of mixed nuts, and another of olives.

"So, how are we going to do this?" I ask. "Run through my points one by one?" "Impatient as ever, Miss Inoue."

"Well, I could ask you what you thought of the weather today?"

He smiles, and his long fingers reach down to collect an olive. He pops it in his mouth, and my eyes linger on his mouth, that mouth, that's been on me… all parts of me. I flush.

"I thought the weather was particularly unexceptional today," he smirks.

"Are you smirking at me, Mr. Kurosaki?"

"I am, Miss Inoue."

"You know this contract is legally unenforceable."

"I am fully aware of that, Miss Inoue."

"Were you going to tell me that at any point?"

He frowns at me.

"You'd think I'd coerce you into something you don't want to do, and then pretend that I have a legal hold over you?"

"Well… yes."

"You don't think very highly of me at all, do you?"

"You haven't answered my question."

"Orihime, it doesn't matter if it's legal or not. It represents an arrangement that I would like to make with you – what I would like from you and what you can expect from me.

If you don't like it, then don't sign. If you do sign, and then decide you don't like it, there are enough get-out clauses so you can walk away.

Even if it were legally binding, do you think I'd drag you through the courts if you did decide to run?"

I take a long draft of my wine. My subconscious taps me hard on the shoulder. You must keep your wits about you. _Don't drink too much._

"Relationships like this are built on honesty and trust," he continues.

"If you don't trust me – trust me to know how I'm affecting you, how far I can go with you, how far I can take you – if you can't be honest with me, then we really can't do this."

_Oh my, _we've cut to the chase quickly. _How far he can take me. _Holy shit. What does that mean?

"So it's quite simple, Orihime. Do you trust me or not?" His eyes are burning, fer vent.

"Did you have similar discussions with um… the fifteen?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because they were all established submissives. They knew what they wanted out of a relationship with me and generally what I expected. With them, it was just a question of fine-tuning the soft limits, details like that."

"Is there a store you go to? Submissives R Us?"

He laughs.

"Not exactly."

"Then how?"

"Is that what you want to discuss? Or shall we get down to the nitty-gritty? Your is sues, as you say."

I swallow. _Do I trust him? _Is that what this all comes down to – trust? Surely that should be a two-way thing. I remember his snit when I phoned Uryū. "Are you hungry?" he asks, distracting me from my thoughts.

_Oh no… food. _

"No."

"Have you eaten today?"

I stare at him. _Honesty… _Holy crap, he's not going to like my answer.

"No." My voice is small.

He narrows his eyes.

"You have to eat, Orihime. We can eat down here or in my suite. What would you prefer?"

"I think we should stay in public, on neutral ground."

He smiles sardonically.

"Do you think that would stop me?" he says softly, a sensual warning.

My eyes widen, and I swallow again.

"I hope so."

"Come, I have a private dining room booked. No public." He smiles at me enigmatically and climbs out of the booth, holding his hand out to me.

"Bring your wine," he murmurs.

Placing my hand in his, I slide out and stand up beside him. He releases me, and his hand reaches for my elbow. He leads me back through the bar and up the grand stairs to a mezzanine floor.

An old-world, sophisticated charm pervades the wood-paneled room. The waiter pulls out my chair, and I sit. He places my napkin in my lap. Ichigo sits opposite me. I peek up at him.

"Don't bite your lip," he whispers.

I frown. Damn it. I don't even know that I'm doing it.

"I've ordered already. I hope you don't mind."

Frankly, I'm relieved, I'm not sure I can make any further decisions.

"No, that's fine."

"It's good to know that you can be amenable. Now, where were we?"

"The nitty-gritty." I take another large sip of wine. It really is delicious. Ichigo Kurosaki does wine well. I remember the last sip of wine he gave me, in my bed. I blush at the intrusive thought.

"Yes, your issues." He fishes into his inside jacket pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. My email.

"Clause 2. Agreed. This is for the benefit of us both. I shall redraft."

I blink at him. Holy shit… we are going to go through each of these points one at a time. I just don't feel so brave face to face. He looks so earnest. I steel myself with an other sip of my wine. Ichigo continues.

"My sexual health. Well, all of my previous partners have had blood tests, and I have regular tests every six months for all the health risks you mention.

All my recent tests are clear. I have never taken drugs. In fact, I'm vehemently anti-drugs. I have a strict no-tolerance policy with regards to drugs for all my employees, and I insist on random drug testing."

Wow… control freakery gone mad. I blink at him shocked.

"I have never had any blood transfusions. Does that answer your question?"

I nod, impassive.

"Your next point I mentioned earlier. You can walk away any time, Orihime. I won't stop you. If you go, however – that's it. Just so you know."

"Okay," I answer softly. If I go, that's it. The thought is surprisingly painful.

The waiter arrives with our first course. How can I possibly eat? Holy Moses – he's ordered oysters on a bed of ice.

"I hope you like oysters," Ichigo's voice is soft.

"I've never had one." Ever.

"Really? Well." He reaches for one. "All you do is tip and swallow. I think you can manage that." He gazes at me, and I know what he's referring to. I blush scarlet.

He grins at me, squirts some lemon juice onto his oyster, and then tips it into his mouth.

"Hmm, delicious. Tastes of the sea," he grins at me. "Go on," he encourages.

"So, I don't chew it?"

"No, Orihime, you don't." His eyes are alight with humor. He looks so young like this.

I bite my lip and his expression changes instantly. He looks sternly at me. I reach across and pick up my first ever oyster. Okay… here goes nothing.

I squirt some lemon juice on it and tip it up. It slips down my throat, all seawater, salt, the sharp tang of citrus, and fleshiness… ooh. I lick my lips, and he's watching me intently, his eyes hooded.

"Well?"

"I'll have another," I say dryly.

"Good girl," he says proudly.

"Did you choose these deliberately? Aren't they known for their aphrodisiac qualities?"

"No, they are the first item on the menu. I don't need an aphrodisiac near you. I think you know that, and I think you react the same way near me," he says simply.

"So where were we?" He glances at my email as I reach for another oyster.

_He reacts the same way. I affect him… wow._

"Obey me in all things. Yes, I want you to do that. I need you to do that. Think of it as role-play Orihime."

"So obeying, do you think you can manage that?"

He stares at me, his dark chocolate eyes intense. The seconds tick by.

"I could try," I whisper.

"Good." He smiles. "Now term. One month instead of three is no time at all, especially if you want a weekend away from me each month. I don't think I'll be able to stay away from you for that length of time. I can barely manage it now," he pauses.

_He can't stay away from me? What?_

"How about, one day over one weekend per month you get to yourself – but I get a midweek night that week?"

"Okay."

"And please, let's try it for three months. If it's not for you then, you can walk away anytime."

"Three months?" I'm feeling railroaded. I take another large sip of wine and treat my self to another oyster. I could learn to like these.

"The ownership thing, that's just terminology and goes back to the principle of obeying. It's to get you into the right frame of mind, to understand where I'm coming from.

And I want you to know that as soon as you cross my threshold as my submissive, I will do what I like to you. You have to accept that and willingly. That's why you have to trust me.

I will fuck you, any time, anyway, I want – anywhere I want. I will discipline you, because you will screw up. I will train you to please me. But I know you've not done this before.

Initially, we'll take it slowly, and I will help you. We'll build up to various scenarios. I want you to trust me, but I know I have to earn your trust, and I will. The "or otherwise" – again it's to help you get into the mindset, it means anything goes."

He's so passionate, mesmerizing. This is obviously his obsession, the way he is… I can't take my eyes off him. He really, really wants this. He stops talking and gazes at me.

"Still with me?" he whispers, his voice rich, warm and seductive. He takes a sip of his wine, his penetrating stare holding mine.

The waiter comes to the door, and Ichigo subtly nods permitting the waiter to clear our table.

"Would you like some more wine?"

"I have to drive."

"Some water then?"

I nod.

"Still or sparkling?"

"Sparkling, please."

The waiter leaves.

"You're very quiet," Ichigo whispers.

"You're very verbose."

He smiles.

"Discipline. There's a very fine line between pleasure and pain Orihime. They are two sides of the same coin, one not existing without the other.

I can show you how pleasurable pain can be. You don't believe me now, but this is what I mean about trust. There will be pain, but nothing that you can't handle. Again, it comes down to trust. _Do _you trust me, Orihime?"

_Orihime!_

"Yes, I do." I respond spontaneously, not thinking… because it's true – I _do _trust him.

"Well then," he looks relieved. "The rest of this stuff is just details."

"Important details."

"Okay, let's talk through those."

My head is swimming with all his words. I should have brought Rukia's mini disc player so I can listen back to this. There is so much information, so much to process.

The waiter re-emerges with our entrees: black cod, asparagus, and crushed potatoes with a hollandaise sauce. I have never felt less like food.

"I hope you like fish," Ichigo says mildly.

I make a stab at my food and take a long drink of my sparkling water. I vehemently wish it was wine.

"The rules. Let's talk about them. The food is a deal breaker?"

"Yes."

"Can I modify to say that you will eat at least three meals a day?"

"No." I am so not backing down on this. No one is going to dictate to me what I eat. How I fuck, yes, but eat… no, no way.

He purses his lips.

"I need to know that you're not hungry."

I frown. _Why? _

"You'll have to trust me."

He gazes at me for a moment, and he relaxes.

"Touché, Miss Inoue," he says quietly. "I concede the food and the sleep."

"Why can't I look at you?"

"That's a Dom/sub thing. You'll get used to it."

_Will I?_

"Why can't I touch you?"

"Because you can't."

His mouth sets in a line.

"Is it because of Mrs. Robinson?"

He looks quizzically at me.

"Why would you think that?" And immediately he understands. "You think she traumatized me?"

I nod.

"No Orihime. She's not the reason. Besides, Mrs. Robinson wouldn't take any of that shit from me."

_Oh… but I have to. _I pout.

"So nothing to do with her."

"No. And I don't want you touching yourself, either."

_What? _Ah yes, the no masturbation clause.

"Out of curiosity… why?"

"Because I want all your pleasure," his voice is husky, but determined.

_Oh_… I have no answer for that. On one level it's up there with, 'I want to bite that lip', on another, it's so selfish. I frown and take a bite of food, trying to assess mentally what concessions I've gained.

The food, the sleep, I can look him in the eye. He's going to take it slow, and we haven't discussed soft limits. But I'm not sure I can face that over food.

"I've given you a great deal to think about haven't I?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to go through the soft limits now too?"

"Not over dinner."

He smiles.

"Squeamish?"

"Something like that."

"You've not eaten very much."

"I've had enough."

"Three oysters, four bites of cod, and one asparagus stalk, no potatoes, no nuts, no olives, and you've not eaten all day. You said I could trust you."

Jeez. He's kept an inventory.

"Ichigo, please, it's not every day I sit through conversations like this."

"I need you fit and healthy Orihime."

"I know."

"And right now, I want to peel you out of that dress."

I swallow. _Peel me out of this dress. _I feel the pull deep in my belly. Muscles that I'm now more acquainted with clench at his words. But I can't have this.

His most potent weapon, used against me again. He's so good at sex – even I've figured this out.

"I don't think that's a good idea," I murmur quietly. "We haven't had dessert."

"You want dessert?" he snorts.

"Yes."

"You could be dessert," he murmurs suggestively.

"I'm not sure I'm sweet enough."

"Orihime, you're deliciously sweet. I know."

"Ichigo. You use sex as a weapon. It really isn't fair," I whisper, staring down at my hands, and then looking directly at him.

He raises his eyebrows, surprised, and I see he's considering my words. He strokes his chin thoughtfully.

"You're right. I do. In life you use what you know, Orihime. Doesn't change how much I want you. Here. Now."

How can he seduce me solely with his voice? I'm panting already – my heated blood rushing through my veins, my nerves tingling.

"I'd like to try something," he breathes.

I frown. He's just given me a shit load of ideas to process and now this.

"If you were my sub, you wouldn't have to think about this. It would be easy." His voice is soft, seductive. "All those decisions – all the wearying thought processes behind them.

The – is this the right thing to do? Should this happen here? Can it happen now? You wouldn't have to worry about any of that detail. That's what I'd do as your Dom. And right now, I know you want me, Orihime."

My frown deepens. How can he tell?

"I can tell because… "

_Holy shit he's answering my unspoken question_. Is he psychic as well?

"… Your body gives you away. You're pressing your thighs together, you're flushed, and your breathing has changed."

_O, this is too much._

"How do you know about my thighs?" My voice is low, disbelieving. They're under the table for heaven's sake.

"I felt the tablecloth move, and it's a calculated guess based on years of experience. I'm right aren't I?"

I flush and stare down at my hands. That's what I'm hindered by in this game of seduction. He's the only one who knows and understands the rules.

I'm just to naïve and inexperienced. My only sphere of reference is Rukia, and she doesn't take any shit from men. My other references are all fictional.

"I haven't finished my cod."

"You'd prefer cold cod to me?"

My head jerks up to glare at him, and his chocolate eyes burn dark molten, with compel ling need.

"I thought you liked me clearing my plate."

"Right now, Miss Inoue, I couldn't give a fuck about your food."

"Ichigo. You just don't fight fair."

"I know. I never have."

My inner mind frowns at me. You can do this– play this sex god at his own game.

_Can I? _Okay. What to do? My inexperience is a noose around my neck. Picking up a spear of asparagus, I gaze at him and bite my lip. Then very slowly put the tip of my cold asparagus in my mouth and suck it.

Ichigo's eyes widen infinitesimally, but I notice.

"Orihime. What are you doing?"

I bite off the tip.

"Eating my asparagus."

Ichigo shifts in his seat.

"I think you're toying with me, Miss Inoue."

I feign innocence.

"I'm just finishing my food, Mr. Kurosaki."

The waiter chooses this moment to knock and, unbidden, enter. He glances briefly at Ichigo, who frowns at him but then nods, so the waiter clears our plates.

The waiter's arrival has broken the spell. And I grasp this precious moment of clarity. I have to go. Our meeting will only end one way if I stay, and I need some boundaries after such an intense conversation.

"Would you like some dessert?" Ichigo asks, ever the gentleman, but his eyes still blaze.

"No, thank you. I think I should go." I stare down at my hands.

"Go?" He can't hide his surprise.

The waiter leaves hastily.

"Yes." It's the right decision. If I stay here, in this room with him, he will fuck me. I stand, purposefully. "We both have the graduation ceremony tomorrow."

Ichigo stands automatically, revealing years of ingrained civility.

"I don't want you to go."

"Please… I have to."

"Why?"

"Because you've given me so much to consider… and I need some distance."

"I could make you stay," he threatens.

"Yes, you could easily, but I don't want you to."

He runs his hand through his hair, regarding me carefully.

"You know, when you fell into my office to interview me, you were all yes sir, no sir. I thought you were a natural born submissive.

But quite frankly, Orihime, I'm not sure you have a submissive bone in your delectable body." He moves slowly toward me as his speaks, his voice tense.

"You may be right," I breathe.

"I want the chance to explore the possibility that you do," he murmurs, staring down at me. He reaches up and caresses my face, his thumb tracing my lower lip.

"I don't know any other way, Orihime. This is who I am."

"I know."

He leans down to kiss me, but pauses before his lips touch mine, his eyes searching mine, wanting, asking permission.

I raise my lips to his, and he kisses me and because I don't know if I'll ever kiss him again, I let go – my hands moving of their own accord and twisting into his hair, pulling him to me, my mouth opening, my tongue stroking his.

His hand grasps the nape of my neck as he deepens the kiss, responding to my ardor. His other hand slides down my back and flattens at the base of my spine as he pushes me against his body.

"I can't persuade you to stay?" he breathes between kisses.

"No."

"Spend the night with me."

"And not touch you? No."

He groans.

"You impossible girl." He pulls back, gazing down at me. "Why do I think you're telling me goodbye?"

"Because I'm leaving now."

"That's not what I mean, and you know it."

"Ichigo, I have to think about this. I don't know if I can have the kind of relation ship you want."

He closes his eyes and presses his forehead against mine, giving us both the opportunity to slow our breathing. After a moment, he kisses my forehead, inhales deeply, his nose in my hair, and then he releases me, stepping back.

"As you wish, Miss Inoue," he says, his face impassive.

"I'll escort you to the lobby." He holds out his hand.

Leaning down, I grab my purse and place my hand in his. _Holy crap, this could be it. _I follow him meekly down the grand stairs and into the lobby, my scalp prickling, my blood pumping.

This could be the last goodbye if I decide to say no. My heart contracts painfully in my chest. What a turnaround. What a difference a moment of clarity can make to a girl.

"Do you have your valet ticket?"

I fish into my clutch purse and hand him the ticket, which he gives to the doorman. I peek up at him as we stand waiting.

"Thank you for dinner," I murmur.

"It's a pleasure as always, Miss Inoue," he says politely, though he looks deep in thought, completely distracted.

As I peer up at him, I commit his beautiful profile to memory. The idea that I might not see him again haunts me, unwelcome and too painful to contemplate. He turns suddenly, staring down at me, his expression intense.

"You're moving this weekend to Tokyo. If you make the right decision, can I see you on Sunday?" He sounds hesitant.

"We'll see. Maybe," I breathe. Momentarily, he looks relieved, and then he frowns.

"It's cooler now, don't you have a jacket?"

"No."

He shakes his head in irritation and takes off his jacket.

"Here. I don't want you catching cold."

I blink up at him as he holds it open, and as I hold my arms out behind me, I'm re minded of the time in his office when he slipped my coat onto my shoulders – the first time I met him – and the effect he had on me then.

Nothing's changed, in fact, it's more intense. His jacket is warm, far too big, and it smells of him. _Oh my… _delicious.

My car pulls up outside. Ichigo's mouth drops open.

"That's what you drive?" He's appalled. Taking my hand, he leads me outside. The valet jumps out and hands me my keys, and Ichigo coolly palms him some money.

"Is this roadworthy?" He's glaring at me now.

"Yes."

"Will it make it to Tokyo?"

"Yes. She will."

"Safely?"

"Yes," I snap, exasperated. "Okay she's old. But she's mine, and she's roadworthy. My stepdad bought it for me."

"Oh, Orihime, I think we can do better than this."

"What do you mean?" Realization dawns. "You are _not _buying me a car."

He glowers at me, his jaw tense.

"We'll see," he says tightly.

He grimaces as he opens the driver's door and helps me in. I take my shoes off and roll down the window. He's gazing at me, his expression unfathomable, eyes dark.

"Drive safely," he says quietly.

"Goodbye, Ichigo." My voice is hoarse from unbidden, unshed tears – _jeez I'm not going to cry. _I give him a small smile.

As I drive away, my chest constricts, my tears start to fall, and I choke back a sob. Soon tears are streaming down my face, and I really don't understand why I'm crying.

I dash the tears from my eyes. I don't want to examine my feelings for him. I'm frightened what I'll uncover if I do. _What am I going to do?_

I park up outside our duplex. No lights on. Rukia must be out.

I'm relieved. I don't want her to catch me crying again. As I undress, I wake up the mean machine and sitting in my inbox is a message from Ichigo.

**From: **Ichigo Kurosaki

**Subject: **Tonight

**Date: **May 25 2013 22:01

**To: **Orihime Inoue

I don't understand why you ran this evening. I sincerely hope I answered all your questions to your satisfaction. I know I have given you a great deal to contemplate, and I fervently hope that you will give my proposal your serious consideration. I really want to make this work. We will take it slow. Trust me.

Ichigo Kurosaki CEO, Kurosaki Enterprises Holdings Inc.

His email makes me weep more. I don't reply. I just don't know what to say to him. I fumble into my PJs, and wrapping his jacket around me. I climb into bed.

As I lie staring into the darkness, I think of all the times he warned me to stay away.

_'Orihime, you should steer clear of me. I'm not the man for you.'_

'_I don't do the girlfriend thing.'_

'_I'm not a hearts and flowers kind of guy.'_

'_I don't make love.'_

'_This is all I know.'_

And as I weep into my pillow silently, it's this last idea I cling to. This is all I know, too. Perhaps together we can chart a new course.

* * *

**Graduation Day**

I am dressed and ready when Shunsui arrives. I open the front door, and he's standing on the porch in his ill-fitting suit.

A warm surge of gratitude and love for this uncomplicated man streaks through me, and I throw my arms around him in an uncharacteristic display of affection.

He's taken-aback, bemused.

"Hey, Orihime, I'm pleased to see you too," he mutters as he hugs me. Setting me back, his hands on my shoulders, he looks me up and down, his brow furrowed. "You okay, kid?"

"Of course, Dad, can't a girl be pleased to see her old man?"

He smiles, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners, and follows me into the living area.

"You look good," he says.

I glance down at the grey chiffon halter neck dress.

He frowns.

"Where is Rukia?"

"She's gone to campus. She's giving a speech, so she has to be early."

"Should we head on over?"

"Dad, we have half an hour. Would you like some tea? And you can tell me how everyone is getting along. How was the drive down?"

Shunsui pulls his car into the campus parking lot, and we follow the stream of humanity dotted with ubiquitous black and red gowns, heading toward the sports auditorium.

"Good luck, Orihime. You seem awfully nervous, do you have to do anything?"

Holy crap… why has Shunsui picked today to be so observant?

"No, Dad. It's a big day." _And I'm going to see him._

"Yeah, my baby girl has gotten a degree. I'm proud of you, Orihime ."

"Aw… thanks Shunsui." Oh I love this man.

The sports auditorium is crowded. Shunsui has gone to sit with the other parents and well-wishers in the raked seating, while I make my way to my seat.

I'm wearing my black gown and my cap, and I feel protected by them, anonymous. There is no one on the stage yet, but I can't seem to steady my nerves.

My heart is pounding, and my breathing is shallow. He's here, somewhere. I wonder if Rukia is talking to him, interrogating him maybe. I am in the second row, affording me yet more anonymity.

I glance behind me and spot Shunsui sat up high in the bleachers. I give him a wave. He self-consciously gives me a half-wave, half-salute back. I sit and wait.

The auditorium fills quickly, and the buzz of excited voices gets louder and louder. The row of seats in front fills. On either side of me, I am joined by two girls whom I don't know from a different faculty.

They're obviously close friends and talk across me excitedly.

At eleven precisely, the Chancellor appears from behind the stage, followed by the three Vice Chancellors, and then the senior professors, all decked out in their black and red regalia.

Last on to the stage are Rukia and Ichigo. Ichigo stands out in his bespoke grey suit under the auditorium lights. He looks so serious and self-contained. As he sits, he undoes his single-breasted jacket, and I glimpse his tie.

_Holy shit… that tie! _I rub my wrists reflexively. I cannot take my eyes off him – his beauty as distracting as ever – and he's wearing that tie, on purpose no doubt.

I can feel my mouth press into a hard line. The audience sits down and the applause ceases.

"Look at him!" One of the girls beside me breathes enthusiastically to her friend.

"He's hot."

I stiffen.

"Must be Ichigo Kurosaki."

"Is he single?"

I bristle.

"I don't think so," I murmur.

"Oh." Both girls look at me in surprise.

"I think he's gay," I mutter.

"What a shame," one of the girls groans.

As the Chancellor gets to his feet and kicks off the proceedings with his speech, I watch Ichigo subtly scanning the hall. I sink into my seat, hunching my shoulders, trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible.

I fail miserably as a second later his chocolate eyes find mine. He stares at me, his face impassive, completely inscrutable. I squirm uncomfortably, hypnotized by his glare as I feel a slow flush spread across my face.

I inhale sharply. I can see the shadow of a smile cross his lips, but it's fleeting. He briefly closes his eyes, and on opening them, resumes his indifferent expression.

Following a swift glance up at the Chancellor, he stares ahead. He doesn't turn his eyes toward me again.

Why won't he look at me? Perhaps he's changed his mind?

A wave of unease washes over me. Perhaps walking out on him last night was the end for him too. He's bored of waiting for me to make up my mind. Oh no, I could have completely blown it.

I remember his email last night. Maybe he's mad that I haven't replied.

Suddenly, the room erupts into applause as Miss Rukia Kuchiki has taken the stage.

She takes her time, not intimidated by a thousand people gawping at her. She smiles when she's ready, looks up at the captivated throng, and launches eloquently into her speech.

She's so composed and funny, the girls beside me erupt on cue at her first joke_. _

_Oh, Rukia Kuchiki, you can deliver a good line. _I feel so proud of her at that moment; my errant thoughts of Ichigo are pushed to one side. Even though I have heard her speech before, I listen carefully.

She commands the room and takes her audience with her.

Her theme is What Next After College? Oh, what next indeed. Ichigo is watching Rukia, his eyebrows slightly raised – in surprise, I think. Yes, it could have been Rukia that went to interview him.

And it could have been Rukia that he was now making indecent proposals to. I know Rukia wouldn't have given him the time of day. What did she call him the other day? Creepy.

The thought of a confrontation between Rukia and Ichigo makes me uncomfortable. I have to say I don't know which of them I would put my money on.

Rukia concludes her speech and spontaneously everyone stands, applauding and cheering, her first standing ovation. I beam at her and cheer, and she grins back at me. _Good job, Rukia. _

She sits, as does the audience, and the Chancellor rises and introduces Ichigo… _holy shit, _Ichigo's going to give a speech.

The Chancellor touches briefly on Ichigo's achievements: CEO of his own extraordinarily successful company, a real self-made man.

"And also a major benefactor to our University, please welcome, Mr. Ichigo Kurosaki."

The Chancellor shakes Ichigo's hand, and there is a swell of polite applause. My heart's in my throat. He approaches the lectern and surveys the hall.

He looks so confident standing in front of us all, as Rukia did before him. The two girls beside me lean in, enraptured. In fact, I think most of the female members of the audience inch closer and a few of the men.

He begins, his voice soft, measured, and mesmerizing.

"I'm profoundly grateful and touched by the great compliment accorded to me by the authorities of Tokyo U today. It offers me a rare opportunity to talk about the impressive work of the environmental science department here at the University.

Our aim is to develop viable and ecologically sustainable methods of farming for third world countries; our ultimate goal is to help eradicate hunger and poverty across the globe.

Over a billion people, mainly in Sub-Saharan Africa, South Asia, and Latin America, live in abject poverty. Agricultural dysfunction is rife within these parts of the world and the result is ecological and social destruction.

I have known what it's like to be profoundly hungry. This is a very personal journey for me… "

My jaw falls to the floor. _What? _Ichigo was hungry once. _Holy crap. _Well, that ex plains a great deal. And I recall the interview; he really _does _want to feed the world.

I desperately rack my brains to remember what Rukia had written in her article. Adopted at age four, I think. I can't imagine that Masaki starved him, so it must have been before then, as a little boy.

I swallow, my heart constricting at the thought of a hungry, chocolate-eyed toddler. Oh no. What kind of life did he have before the Kurosakis got hold of him and rescued him?

I'm seized by a sense of raw outrage, poor, fucked-up, kinky, philanthropic Ichigo – though I'm sure he wouldn't see himself this way and would repel any thoughts of sympathy or pity.

Abruptly, everyone bursts into applause and stands. I follow, though I haven't heard half his speech. He's doing all of these good works, running a huge company, and chasing me at the same time. It's overwhelming.

He smiles briefly at the warm applause – even Rukia is clapping, then he resumes his seat. He doesn't look my way.

One of the Vice Chancellors rises, and we begin the long, tedious process of collecting our degrees. There are over four hundred to be given out, and it takes just over an hour before I hear my name.

I make my way up to the stage between the two giggling girls. Ichigo gazes down at me, his gaze warm but guarded.

"Congratulations, Miss Inoue," he says as he shakes my hand, squeezing it gently. I feel the charge of his flesh on mine.

"Do you have a problem with your laptop?"

I frown as he hands me my degree.

"No."

"Then you _are _ignoring my emails?"

"I only saw the one."

He looks quizzically at me.

"Later," he says, and I have to move on because I'm holding up the line.

I go back to my seat. Emails? He must have sent another. What did it say?

The ceremony takes another hour to conclude. It's interminable.

Finally, the Chancellor leads the faculty members off the stage to yet more rousing applause, preceded by Ichigo and Rukia. Ichigo does not glance at me, even though I'm willing him to do it.

As I stand and wait for our row to disperse, Rukia calls to me. She's heading my way from behind the stage.

"Ichigo wants to talk to you," she shouts. The two girls who are now standing be side me turn and gape at me.

"He's sent me out here," she continues.

_Oh…_

"Your speech was great, Rukia."

"It was, wasn't it?" she beams. "Are you coming? He can be very insistent." She rolls her eyes, and I grin.

"You have no idea. I can't leave Shunsui for long."

I glance up at Shunsui and hold my fingers up indicating five minutes. He nods, giving me an okay sign, and I follow Rukia into the corridor behind the stage.

Ichigo is talking to the Chancellor and two of the teaching staff. He looks up when he sees me.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," I hear him murmur. He comes toward me and smiles briefly at Rukia.

"Thank you," he says, and before she can reply, he takes my elbow and steers me into what looks like a men's locker room.

He checks to see if it's empty, and then he locks the door.

_Holy shit, what does he have in mind? _I blink up at him as he turns on me.

"Why haven't you emailed me? Or texted me back?" He glares. I'm nonplussed.

"I haven't looked at my computer today, or my phone." Crap, has he been trying to call?

I try my distraction technique that's so effective on Rukia. "That was a great speech."

"Thank you."

"Explains your food issues to me."

He runs a hand through his hair, exasperated.

"Orihime, I don't want to go there at the moment." He closes his eyes, looking pained. "I've been worried about you."

"Worried, why?"

"Because you went home in that deathtrap you call a car."

"What? It's not a deathtrap. It's fine. Uryū regularly services it for me."

"Uryū, the photographer?" Ichigo's eyes narrow, his face frosting. _Oh Crap._

"Yes, the Beetle used to belong to his mother."

"Yes, and probably her mother and her mother before her. It's not safe."

"I've been driving it for over three years. I'm sorry you were worried. Why didn't you call?" Jeez, he's completely over-reacting.

He takes a deep breath.

"Orihime, I need an answer from you. This waiting around is driving me crazy."

"Ichigo, I… look, I've left my stepdad on his own."

"Tomorrow. I want an answer by tomorrow."

"Okay. Tomorrow, I'll tell you then." I blink at him.

He steps back, regarding me coolly, and his shoulders relax.

"Are you staying for drinks?" he asks.

"I don't know what Shunsui wants to do."

"Your stepfather? I'd like to meet him."

_Oh no… why? _

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

Ichigo unlocks the door, his mouth in a grim line.

"Are you ashamed of me?"

"No!" It's my turn to sound exasperated. "Introduce you to my dad as what?

'This is the man who deflowered me and wants us to start a BDSM relationship'. You're not wearing running shoes."

Ichigo glares down at me, and then his lips twitch up in a smile. And in spite of the fact I'm mad at him, my face is unwillingly pulled into an answering grin.

"Just so you know, I can run quite fast. Just tell him I'm your friend, Orihime."

He opens the door, and I head out. My mind is whirling. The Chancellor, the three Vice Chancellors, four professors, and Rukia stare at me as I walk hastily past them.

_Holy crap. _Leaving Ichigo with the faculty I go in search of Shunsui.

_Tell him I'm your friend. _Friend with benefits, my subconscious scowls. I know, I know. I shake the unpleasant thought away.

How will I introduce him to Shunsui? The hall is still at least half full, and Shunsui has not moved from his spot. He sees me, waves, and makes his way down.

"Hey, Orihime. Congratulations." He puts his arm around me.

"Would you like to come and have a drink in the marquee?"

"Sure. It's your day. Lead the way."

"We don't have to if you don't want to." _Please say no…_

"Orihime, I've just sat for two and half hours listening to all kinds of jabbering. I need a drink."

I put my arm through his, and we stroll out with the throng into the warmth of the early afternoon. We pass the line for the official photographer.

"Oh, that reminds me." Shunsui drags a digital camera out of his pocket. "One for the album, Orihime." I roll my eyes at him as he snaps a picture of me.

"Can I take the cap and gown off now? I feel kind of dorky."

The marquee is immense, and crowded – students, parents, teachers, and friends, all chattering happily. Shunsui hands me a glass of champagne or cheap fizzy wine, I suspect.

It's not chilled, and it tastes sweet. My thoughts turn to Ichigo… _he won't like this._

"Orihime!" I turn, and Jinta Kuchiki scoops me into his arms. He twirls me around, without spilling my wine, some feat.

"Congratulations!" He beams down at me, eyes twinkling.

What a surprise. His red hair tousled and sexy-looking.

"Wow – Jinta! How lovely to see you. Dad, this is Jinta, Rukia's brother. Jinta, this is my dad, Shunsui Kyōraku." They shake hands.

"When did you get back from Europe?" I ask.

"I've been back for a week, but I wanted to surprise my sister," he says.

"That's so sweet." I grin up at him.

"She is Valedictorian, couldn't miss that." He looks immensely proud of his sister.

"She gave a great speech."

"That she did," Shunsui agrees.

Jinta has his arm around my waist when I look up into the dark eyes of Ichigo Kurosaki. Rukia is beside him.

"Hello, Shunsui," Rukia kisses Shunsui on both cheeks, making him blush. "Have you met Orihime's boyfriend? Ichigo Kurosaki."

_Holy shit… Rukia! Fuck! _All the blood drains from my face.

"Mr. Kyōraku, it's a pleasure to meet you." Ichigo says smoothly, warmly, completely unflustered by Rukia's introduction.

He holds out his hand, which, all credit to Shunsui, Shunsui takes, not showing a hint of the drop-dead surprise he's just had thrust upon him.

_Thank you very much, Rukia Kuchiki, _I fume.

"Mr. Kurosaki," Shunsui murmurs his expression indecipherable except perhaps for the slight widening of his big brown eyes.

They slide over my face with a when-were-you-going-to-give-me-this-news look.

I bite my lip.

"And this is my brother, Jinta." says Rukia to Ichigo.

Ichigo turns his dark glare on Jinta, who still has one arm around me.

"Mr. Kuchiki."

They shake hands. Ichigo holds his hand out to me.

"Orihime, baby," he murmurs, and I nearly faint at the endearment.

I walk out of Jinta's grasp, while Ichigo smiles icily at him, and I take my place at his side.

Rukia grins at me. She knows exactly what she's doing, the vixen!

"Jinta, Mom and Dad wanted a word." Rukia drags Jinta away.

"So how long have you kids known each other?" Shunsui looks impassively from Ichigo to me.

The power of speech has deserted me. I want the ground to swallow me up.

Ichigo puts his arm around me, his thumb skimming my naked back in a caress, before his hand clasps my shoulder.

"Couple of weeks or so now," he says smoothly. "We met when Orihime came to interview me for the student magazine."

"Didn't know you worked on the student magazine, Orihime." Shunsui's voice is a quiet admonishment, revealing his irritation. _Shit._

"Rukia was ill," I murmur. It's all I can manage.

"Fine speech you gave, Mr. Kurosaki."

"Thank you, sir. I understand that you're a keen fisherman."

Shunsui raises his eyebrows and smiles – a rare, genuine, bona fide Shunsui Kyōraku smile – and off they go, talking fish.

In fact, I soon feel surplus to requirements. He's charming the pants off my dad… _like he did you, _my subconscious snaps at me. His power knows no bounds.

I excuse myself to go and find Rukia.

She's talking to her parents, who are delightful as ever and greet me warmly.

"Rukia, how could you out me to Shunsui?" I hiss at the first opportunity we won't be over heard.

"Because I knew you never would, and I want to help with Ichigo's commitment issues." Rukia smiles at me sweetly.

I scowl. _It's me that won't commit to him, silly!_

"He seems trés cool about it, Orihime. Don't sweat it.

Look at him now – Ichigo cannot take his eyes off you." I glance up, and both Shunsui and Ichigo are looking at me.

"He's been watching you like a hawk."

"I'd better go rescue Shunsui or Ichigo. I don't know which.

You haven't heard the last of this, Rukia Kuchiki!" I glare at her.

"Orihime, I did you a favor," she calls after me.

"Hi." I smile at both of them on my return.

They seem okay. Ichigo is enjoying some private joke, and my dad looks unbelievably relaxed given he's in a social situation.

_What have they been discussing apart from fish?_

"Orihime, where are the restrooms?"

"Back out front of the marquee and to the left."

"See you in a moment. You kids enjoy yourselves."

Shunsui heads out. I glance nervously up at Ichigo. We pause briefly as a photographer takes a picture of both of us.

"Thank you, Mr. Kurosaki." The photographer scurries off. I blink from the flash.

"So you've charmed my father as well?"

"As well?" Ichigo's eyes burn, and he raises a questioning eyebrow. I flush. He lifts his hand and traces my cheek with his fingers.

"Oh, I wish I knew what you were thinking, Orihime," he whispers darkly, cupping my chin and raising my head so that we gaze intently into each other's eyes.

My breath hitches. How can he have this effect on me, even in this crowded tent?

"Right now, I'm thinking, nice tie," I breathe.

He chuckles.

"It's recently become my favorite."

I blush scarlet.

"You look lovely, Orihime, this halter-neck dress suits you, and I get to stroke your back, feel your beautiful skin."

Suddenly, it's like we're on our own in the room.

Just the two of us, my whole body has come alive, every nerve ending singing softly, that electricity pulling me to him, charging between us.

"You know it's going to be good, don't you, baby?" he whispers. I close my eyes as my insides uncoil and melt.

"But I want more," I whisper.

"More?" he looks down at me puzzled, his eyes darkening. I nod and swallow. _Now he knows._

"More," he says again softly.

Testing the word – a small, simple word, but so full of promise. His thumb traces my lower lip.

"You want hearts and flowers."

I nod again. He blinks down at me, and I watch his internal struggle played out in his eyes.

"Orihime." His voice is soft.

"It's not something I know."

"Me neither."

He smiles slightly.

"You don't know much," he murmurs.

"You know all the wrong things."

"Wrong? Not to me." He shakes his head. He looks so sincere.

"Try it," he whispers. A challenge, daring me, and he cocks his head to one side and smiles his crooked, dazzling smile.

I gasp, and I'm Eve in the Garden of Eden, and he's the serpent, and I cannot resist.

"Okay," I whisper.

"What?" I have his full, undivided attention. I swallow.

"Okay. I'll try."

"You're agreeing?" His disbelief is evident.

"Subject to the soft limits, yes. I'll try." My voice is so small. Ichigo closes his eyes and pulls me into an embrace.

"Jesus, Orihime, you're so unexpected. You take my breath away."

He steps back, and suddenly Shunsui's returned, and the volume in the marquee gradually rises and fills my ears.

We are not alone. _Holy shit, I've just agreed to be his sub. _Ichigo smiles at Shunsui, and his eyes are dancing with joy.

"Orihime, should we get some lunch?"

"Okay." I blink up at Shunsui, trying to find my equilibrium. _What have you done? _My subconscious screams at me.

"Would you like to join us, Ichigo?" Shunsui asks.

_Ichigo! _I stare up at him, imploring him to refuse. I need space to think… what the fuck have I done?

"Thank you, Mr. Kyōraku, but I have plans. It's been great to meet you, sir."

"Likewise," Shunsui responds. "Look after my baby girl."

"Oh, I fully intend to, Mr. Kyōraku."

They shake hands. I feel sick. Shunsui has no idea how Ichigo intends to look after me.

Ichigo takes my hand and raises it to his lips and kisses my knuckles tenderly, his scorching eyes intent on mine.

"Later, Miss Inoue," he breathes, his voice full of promise.

My belly curls at the thought… oh my. _Hang on… later?_

Shunsui takes my elbow and leads me toward the entrance to the tent.

"Seems a solid young man. Well-off too. You could do a lot worse, Orihime.

Though why I had to hear about him from Rukia," he scolds.

I shrug apologetically.

"Well, any man who likes and knows his fishing is okay with me."

Holy cow – Shunsui approves. If only he knew.

Shunsui drops me back at the house at dusk.

"Call your mom," he says.

"I will. Thanks for coming, Dad."

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world, Orihime. You make me so proud."

_Oh no. _I'm not going to get emotional.

A huge lump forms in my throat, and I hug him, hard. He puts his arms around me, bemused, and I can't help it – tears pool in my eyes.

"Hey, Orihime, sweetheart," Shunsui croons. "Big old day… eh? Want me to come in and make you some tea?"

I laugh, in spite of my tears. Tea is always the answer according to Shunsui.

I remember my mother complaining about him, saying that when it came to tea and sympathy, he was always good at the tea, not so hot on the sympathy.

"No, Dad, I'm good. It's been so great to see you. I'll visit real soon once I'm settled in Tokyo."

"Good luck with the interviews. Let me know how they go."

"Sure thing, Dad."

"Love you, Orihime."

"Love you too, Dad."

He smiles, his brown eyes warm, glowing, and he climbs back into his car.

I wave him off as he drives into the dusk, and I wander listlessly back into the apartment.

First thing I do is check my cell phone. It needs recharging, so I have to hunt down the charger and plug it in before I can collect my messages.

Four missed calls, one voice message, and two texts.

Three missed calls from Ichigo… no messages. One missed call from Uryū and a voice mail from him wishing me all the best for graduation.

I open the texts.

***Are you home safe***

***Call me***

They are both from Ichigo, why didn't he call the house? I head into my bedroom and fire up the mean machine.

**From: **Ichigo Kurosaki

**Subject: **Tonight

**Date: **May 25 2013 23:58

**To: **Orihime Inoue

I hope you made it home in that car of yours. Let me know if you're okay.

Ichigo Kurosaki CEO, Kurosaki Enterprises Holdings Inc.

Jeez... why is he so worried about my Beetle.

It has given me three years of loyal service, and Uryū has always been on hand to maintain it for me.

Ichigo's next email is from today.

**From: **Ichigo Kurosaki

**Subject: **Soft Limits

**Date: **May 26 2013 17:22

**To: **Orihime Inoue

What can I say that I haven't already? Happy to talk these through anytime. You looked beautiful today.

Ichigo Kurosaki CEO, Kurosaki Enterprises Holdings Inc.

I want to see him. I hit reply

**From: **Orihime Inoue

**Subject: **Soft Limits

**Date: **May 26 2013 19:23

**To: **Ichigo Kurosaki

I can come over this evening to discuss if you'd like.

Orihime

**From: **Ichigo Kurosaki

**Subject: **Soft Limits

**Date: **May 26 2013 19:27

**To: **Orihime Inoue

I'll come to you. I meant it when I said I wasn't happy about you driving that car. I'll be with you shortly.

Ichigo Kurosaki CEO, Kurosaki Enterprises Holdings Inc.

_Holy crap_… he's coming over now.

* * *

_Well as promised another chapter this week. Anyone have any guesses who is the "aka Mrs. Robinson?" I'm not telling. hahaha I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I hope to update soon. Gwen-chan-out_


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